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'a confusion of dfrricks, concrete mixing machines, bucket klevatou 

enormous wooden boxes, and curious cylindrical objects. . . ." 

See page 34. 



SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN BOY SERIES 

With the Men who 
do Things 



J^ BY 

Ai^USSELL BOND 

Author of the Scientific American Boy, 

Scientific American Boy at School, 

Handy Man's Workshop and 

Laboratory, etc. 



New York 

MUNN & CO., Inc., Publishers 

1913 



^t;^ 
?>-^ 



Copyright, 1913. by A. Russell Bond. 



Copyright, 1913, by Munn & Company, Inc. 

Rights of translation into all lan^ages including the Scandinavian are reserred. 
Published October, 1913. 



Printed in the United States of America by A. H. Kellogg Company, New York. 



PREFACE 

Every sound, healthy boy is endowed with a craving 
for information. It is with the purpose of satisfying 
that craving) insofar as it applies to engineering mat- 
ters, that this book is written. Appreciating the timidity 
of some on approaching a subject with so formidable 
a name as '^Engineering/' the author has endeavored 
to lure them by dwelling largely on the romantic side 
of the work. Any boy with red blood in his veins will 
find plenty of interest and excitement in the deeds of 
men whose daily occupation is a battle with forces, be- 
side which their own physical powers are puny. Much 
that is harrowing and gruesome might be introduced in 
the story, but the author has chosen to recount adven- 
tures that show courage, presence of mind, loyalty to 
comrades and devotion to duty, rather than accidents 
attributable to carelessness and stupidity. 

In the preparation of this book the author's first act 
was to throw away the calendar. Manifestly all of the 
events described could not have taken place in any 
one summer. The fire on the bridge, described in 
Chapter XII. actually occurred on the Williamsburg 
Bridge during its construction in 1902; but if the story 
had been staged in that year, it could not have taken 
in other works, such as the aqueduct which is still under 



ii Preface. 

construction, the Ambrose Channel which is only just 
completed; the big drydock finished last year and so on. 
Furthermore, the art of bridge building has advanced 
since that time, and wishing to have the engineering 
data up to date, the author has taken the liberty of stag- 
ing the lire on the newer Manhattan Bridge. 

After all, this is a work of fiction, yet the most re- 
markable of the adventures are based on fact. The 
story of the man in the aqueduct shaft, who fell out 
of a cage and landed uninjured on top, impossible 
though it may seem, is vouched for by the manager 
of one of the large contracting companies. Even 
"Danny Roaches" underground swim has a certain 
foundation in fact, for on one occasion, on some work 
near this city, rats with oakum tied to their tails, were 
dropped into a Hooded caisson in the hope that they 
would crawl through the holes in the deck and thus 
stop the leaks; while on another occasion, a daring sand 
hog swam on his back under the burned deck of a cais- 
son with scarcely any breathing space and stopped the 
leaks just as "Danny" did. The author is sorry that he 
has been unable to confirm the yarn of the man picked 
up by a dredge. The story came to him second-hand 
from a driver. Still there is no re2ison why such a 
strange adventure might not have taken place. 

While the author has taken liberties with the nar- 
rative, he has been very careful to have the engineer- 
ing data absolutely correct. He acknowledges a heavy 



Preface. iii 

debt to the many engineers who have furnished him with 
information, loaned him photographs, and read his man- 
uscript to make sure that it contained no technical er- 
rors. He is obligated to the Thompson-Starrett Com- 
pany for permission to visit the Woolworth Building 
during construction; to Mr. Edwin S. Jarrett, Vice- 
President of the Foundation Company, for detailed in- 
formation on foundation work, for the story of Danny's 
swim and for arranging an interview with Jackie 
Hughes, the man who was blown into the mud when 
his comrade was shot through the river bed; to Mr. 
George B. Walker for the description of a newspaper 
office; to Mr. George S. Rice for help with the chapter 
on tunneling under the East River; to Mr. George B. 
Fry for the story about plugging a leak with a human 
body,- and for other adventures in the construction of 
the aqueduct; to Mr. D. L. Holbrook of the Otis Ele- 
vator Company for help with the chapter on elevators; 
to Mr. W. R. Bascome, who supplied nearly all of the 
photographs of bridge construction and explained the 
work in detail; to Mr. F. J. Maclsaac and his son, 
Donald Maclsaac, who were very courteous in guiding 
the author through the aqueduct and furnishing him 
with valuable information as well as photographs and 
diagrams; to Mr. Alfred D. Flinn, Department Engi- 
neer of the Board of Water Supply, for correcting the 
manuscript on that work; to Mr. H. N. Babcock and 
Mr. H. L. Potter, U. S. Army Engineers, in charge of 



iv Preface. 

the Ambrose Channel; to Mr. H. F. Harris, U. S. Navy 
Engineer, in charge of the work on the drydock; to the 
U. S. Navy Department for permission to visit a sub- 
marine; to the New York Sanitary Utilization Com- 
pany and Mr. Irving Blount for furnishing photographs 
and showing the author through the garbage disposal 
plant at Barren Island; to the New York Telephone 
Company for very courteously showing the author 
through a central station and supplying many photo- 
graphs; and finally, to the Hamburg- American Line for 
supplying the photographs of the Diesel engine ship. 

Many readers will recognize in "Bill" and "Jim" the 
two boys who did things in the "Scientific American 
Boy" and later in the "Scientific American Boy at 
School." Now we shall follow them in their experiences 
with "The Men Who Do Things." 

A. Russell Bond. 

New York, October, 1913. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. PAGE 

UNCLE ED'S WAGER. i 

A test for Bill. One Thousand dollars to see New York. 

CHAPTER II. 

FIRST EVENING IN THE BIG CITY. 4 

A letter from Bill. A New York boarding house. Two- 
mile run to a fire. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE "RUBBER NECK" AUTO. 9 

A tiff with Bill. Ride in a sight-s«eing car. First view of 
work on a skyscraper. A personal investigation. 

CHAPTER IV. 

FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE BROADWAY. 14 

Up to the twenty-eighth story. Floor arches. On up 
among the riveters. Bill goes higher. Hat on fire. The 
"boss" appears. 

CHAPTER V. 

ALL ABOUT SKYSCRAPERS. 22 

Bill comes down with the assistant superintendent. Work 
of the setting gang. Every piece numbered. A 61^-ton 
girder. Reeling on a beam. 2,400 horse-power plant, 
Terra-cotta walls. Weight on foundations. Height limit 
of skyscrapers. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A HUNDRED FEET BELOW BROADWAY. ^ 34 

Construction of caissons. Physical examination. Down 
in a caisson. The boys cannot whistle. Rush for the 
doctor. Joke on the boys. Blasting a caisson. Down 
again with Danny Roach. The oakum afire. Danny 
painfully burned extinguishing the blaze. Reporter from 
the Sphere. 

CHAPTER VII. ' 
THE "BENDS." 52 

The boys get the caisson disease. The hospital lock. Mr. 
Watson drops in. Invitation to visit the Editor. 



vi Contents. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

REPORTERS FOR THE SPHERE. 63 

The "bends" again. Visit to the Sphere building. The 
Managing Editor. First article for the paper. Visit to 
Danny Roach. A check from the Managing Editor. 

CHAPTER IX. 
SAND HOGS. 74 

Visit East River tunnel shaft. No visitors allowed. Gain 
admission as sand hogs. The shield. Lunch at 4 A.M. 
Blasting rock ahead of the shield. 

CHAPTER X. 

A MAN GOES SKYROCKETING THROUGH THE RIVER 

BED. 84 

Treacherous silt ahead. Two men blown through the 
shield. Mad rush for the locks. Return to rescue Jake. 
Tunnel filling rapidly. Jerry shoots out of the water. A 
"beat." 

CHAPTER XL 

STOPPING A LEAK WITH A HUMAN BODY. 91 

Chief Engineer Price. The Engineers' Club. Uncle Ed 
in a bad blowout. Using a sand hog in place of a sand bag. 
A chance to see the work on a suspension bridge. 

CHAPTER XII. 

SPINNING A WEB ACROSS THE RIVER. 98 

Anchorages for the cables. Up to the top of a tower. Wire 
stringing. Anchoring the strands. Fire on the bridge. 
Fall of the foot walk. Retreat "under fire." Cable winding 
process. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

CARS THAT TRAVEL SKYWARD. 109 

Mr. Hotchkiss. Eight million passenger transportation 
system. Safety of elevators. The "air cushion." A 
fall of six hundred and eighty feet. Danger of sitting in 
a chair when elevator is falling. A 365-foot hole for a 
plunger elevator. The "jump drill." Operation of plunger 
elevator. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

QUENCHING A CITY'S THIRST. 123 

A " head frame " in the park. A 120-mile aqueduct. Villages 
/ and cemeteries moved to make room for lake. Siphon 1,100 
feet under the Hudson. Test borings under the Hudson. 
Eleven hundred feet underground. No whistling allowed. 
Drilling the heading. Arrangement of shot holes. Charging 
the holes with dynamite. Flaking off the rock. Poisonous 
fumes. 



Contents. vii 

CHAPTER XV. 

CAGING DYNAMITE. 137 

Underground dynamite chamber. Fifty pounds of dynamite 
dropped down a 180-foot shaft. Door to close automatically 
in case of explosion. The magazine as a refuge. Bill's cap 
sails off and comes back again. Water squeezed out of the 
air. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

A LIFE SAVING FALL. 146 

Tunneling under a preglacial river bed. Deepest shaft and 
tallest building. Concreting plant. Concreting forms for 
the tunnel. Private property 750 feet deep. Fall out of a 
cage and back on top. Man loses his balance and falls into 
pit in preference to dropping heavy tools on men below. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

BOATS THAT DEVOUR MUD. 159 

Under-water canal in New York Bay. Down the bay in a 
tug. Suction dredge. Revolver in the sand. Dumping 
the load of sand. Ambrose Channel and Panama Canal 
compared. Nearly run down by a steamer. Dodging 
shells from Sandy Hook. Burying under-water stone piles. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE LAUNCH OP A BATTLESHIP. 176 

Telegram from the Editor. Visit to the Navy Yard. Launch- 
ing ways. Launching with a trigger. Down the ways. ^ 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE "HOODOO DRYDOCK." - 183 

Big hole in the Navy Yard. Sheet piling. Cutting steel 
with oxy-acetylene torch. Flaring footing for a column. 
An enormous concrete "boat." Forming the key between 
caissons. Putting a battleship in dry dock. 

CHAPTER XX. ] 

TWENTY MILES UNDER THE SEA. 197 

Submarine in dry dock. Permit from the Bureau of Navi- 
gation. Eyes of a submarine. Interior of a submarine. 
Upper works stripped. Running with periscopes out. 
No fresh air. Man turns maniac. All the way under. 
Construction of torpedoes. Ears of a submarine. A 
dangerous plunge. Ballast tanks. Torpedoes discharged. 
Adventure on the Porpoise. 



viii Contents. 

CHAPTER XXI 

MAKING SOAP FROM GARBAGE. 214 

Street cleaning in New York, Down to Barren Island 
with the garbage scows. Held up by fog. Treasures in 
garbage. Boiled garbage. Water in food. Skimming off 
the oil. Hairpins clogging a screen. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

CAUGHT IN THE JAWS OF A BUCKET DREDGE. 224 

Wreck in the East River. Putting chains under the hull. 
Lifting the hull with the tide. Curious rig of a diver. 
Divers' yarns. Asleep in a sewer. Picked up by a clam- 
shell bucket. Jim goes down to the wreck. Carried up on 
a plank. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THOUSANDS TALKING AT ONCE. 240 

Fire in the Subway. Tangle of telephone wires. New York 
a copper mine. Adventure with wire thieves. Through a 
telephone central. Switchboard explained. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

AN UNDERGROUND SWIM. 255 

Letter from Danny Roach. Deck of a caisson burnt through. 
Caisson flooded. Rats to stop the leaks. Fight with rats 
in the shaft. Danny swims under the deck to stop the leaks. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

IGNITING OIL BY COMPRESSION. 263 

Invitation from Eijgineer Price. Diesel engines. Vessel 
without smoke-stacks. Seized by Uncle Ed. Cross-exam- 
ined by Dr. McGreggor. Dr. McGreggor offers Jim a 
course in college. 



LIST OF LINE DRAWINGS. 

Figure page 

i. how the hollow tiles of a floor arch are arranged. . . i7 

2. Passing a bucket through the airlock 40 

3. Working chamber of a concrete caisson 40 

4. Working chamber of a wooden caisson 42 

5. Successive steps in sinking a caisson 45 

6. Drilling the rock ledge in front of the shield 82 

7. The " AIR cushion " 113 

8. How a plunger elevator is built 118 

9. The aqueduct under the Hudson River 127 

10. Work at the heading of a tunnel 132 

ii. how the aqueduct runs under the preglacial bed of 

THE East River 148 

12. T-HE CONCRETING PLANT I50 

13. Cross section of the lower form 152 

14. Sectional side view of the form 152 

15. General view of the concreting forms and the incline 152 

16. Section through a suction dredge 172 

17. Burying a stone pile with a water jet 173 

18 and 19. How the ship is supported on the launching ways. 178 

20. The hydraulic launching trigger 180 

21. Making a flared footing for a concrete column 189 

22. Half-round forms in a caisson 192 

23. A key shaft between two caissons 192 

24. Longitudinal section of a torpedo 207 

25. Pontoon cut away to show the chain well 225 

26. How the chains were passed under the wreck 226 

ix 



1 



LIST OF HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



"A CONFUSION OF DERRICKS, CONCRETE MIXING MACHINES, BUCKET 
ELEVATORS, ENORMOUS WOODEN BOXES, AND CURIOUS CYLIN- 

DRiCAL OBJECTS . . , " Frotitispiece ^ 

Facing 
Page 

Fighting a spectacular blaze in lower New York 8 ^ 

Five hundred feet above Broadway 9 >/^ 

How City Hall looks to the steel construction man i6 ^ 

Finishing the top of a tower i7 "^j 

Waiting to receive a beam 17 ^ 

Battering down a rivet with a pneumatic hammer 24 *^ 

Reaching out into space for a swinging girder 24.^ 

Picking out an incandescent rivet with his tongs 25 v 

Hand riveting where pneumatic hammers cannot be used.. 25 i 

Foundation work of the Municipal Building viewed from 

Brooklyn Bridge 32 s 

Caisson weighted with iron blocks to force it down 33 t^' 

Setting up the forms and reinforcing bars for casting a 

concrete working chamber ' 33 

Fire in the Caisson "He reached for the signal rope".... 48 

Down to rock in a caisson. Encountering troublesome 

boulders 49 

Concrete bulkhead with three air locks 72 "^ 

Looking into a tunnel air-lock. . 72 ^ 

Setting up a shield just before breaking out of the rock. 73 k^ 

The erector crane with which the ring plates are set in 

placje 73 

"Clear through the bed of the river and up to the surface!" 84 

View looking toward the shield showing the traveling plat- 
form that carries erector 85 

X 



List of Half-tone Illustrations. 



XI 



Facing 
Page 

Two SHIELDS PUSHED FROM OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE RIVER, MEETING 
WITH A PERFECT FIT 



Building a temporary foot bridge across the river 

Three hundred feet above the river 

Drawing back the shoe with a hydraulic jack 

Turning the shoe on edge and fitting it between the eye 

BARS 

"Mr. Blanchard didn't stop for argument but ran across 

THE bridge" 

Each strand fastened to its own anchor chain 

Stringing the last pair of wires on a carrier bearing the 
Stars and Stripes 

"A spool of wire on the gear — winding the wire around the 
cable" 

"Several strands were squeezed together to form a core" 

Securing the girders to the cables 

The head frame of a shaft in Central Park 

Waterproofing a concrete trough at Irondequoit Creek 
Crossing 

At work on the Olive Bridge dam of the Aqueduct 

In the tunnel i,ioo feet below the Hudson River 

Boring with a diamond drill in the Hudson River Siphon. 

Drills set up at a tunnel heading 

"Holed Through" from one shaft to another 

A ROOF OF steel WHERE THE ROCK IS SHAKY 

a subterranean stream that keeps the pumps busy 

Ramming the powder into the shot holes 

Entrance to the dynamite chamber 

The dynamite chamber 

"Another blast came out of the magazine behind me" 

The highest building in New York and the deepest shaft . . 
Collapsible forms for concreting the aqueduct tunnel. . . . 
Reinforcement for a caisson at one of the shafts 



85 
96 
96 
97 

97 

02 
03 

03 



J/ 



08 


y 


09 


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09 


1/ 


22 


l/ 


23 


/ 


23 




28 




28 




29 


W 


29 


U' 


36 




36 


•y 


37 




37 




42 


./• 


43 


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46 


Ly 


47 


v/ 


54 


sy 



xii List of Half-tone Illustrations, 

Facing 
Page 

Looking down a deep shaft 154 "- 

Section of the tunnel with side walls concreted I55 ; - 

The cage at the bottom of a shaft I55i ' 

Driving an aqueduct shaft^ 158 -^ 

Water and sand filling the bins of the suction dredge. .. 159 ^^ 

Bow OF A dredge after collision with a liner 159^/ 

"That looks like pirates, now doesn't it?" I said triumph- 
antly 164 i^ 

One of the boats that devour mud 165 ^^ 

Bow cradle 176 \x< 

U. S. Battleship New York sliding down the ways i77 i> 

Caught by the tugs after the launching 177 ^^ 

A sectional drawing of the "hoodoo" drydock 184 , 

Section through the dock showing the caisson gate 185 

The huge dry dock 194 , 

The caisson gate of a dry dock 195 <^. 

Submarine running awash 200 t/ 

Clearing the deck before diving 200 . 

Running with the conning tower out of water 201 w' 

All under but the periscope tubes 201 <^ 

"My, how angry the Captain was!" 208 *^ 

Shoveling garbage from a scow upon the conveyor 2091/ 

Hydraulic presses squeezing the juice out of the boiled 

garbage 218 1/ 

The digesters in which the garbage is cooked 219- 

THE dry residue used for fertilizer 219 v' 

Steam press for extracting the juices from the garbage . . 222 i^ 

Steam press opened- for removal of the dry residue 2221/ 

how the wreck was raised by passing chains under it 223 v 

"It had me IN ITS mouth AND WAS liftin' me off my feet". . . . 234 ^ 

a maze of safety devices on the distributing frame 235 i 

Connecting up a tangle of wires back of the relay board 244 , 



List of Half-tone Illustrations. xiii 

Facing 
Page 
"There was a steady hum like the droning of bees" 245^ 

The back of a switchboard looks exceedingly complicated. 252 ^ 

Ten thousand "jacks" within her reach 253 1/ 

Engine room of the Christian X 264 f^ 

"Why, it hasn't any smoke-stacks!" 264 \/' 

The gallery in the engine room of the Selandia 265 v 

Lower deck of the "Selandia" Diesel-engine room 265 ^ 



WITH THE MEN WHO DO THINGS. 



CHAPTER I. 
UNCLE ED'S 'WAGER. 

"Now there is a boy for you," said Uncle Ed, handing 
over a school report to his fellow engineer, James Haldane 
McGreggor, "lOO in Physics, lOO in Geometry. He is 
going to make a name for himself, that lad. I am going 
to send him to college next fall to take a course in engi- 
neering." 

Dr. McGreggor glanced at the report critically. "Rather 
poor in some things I should say. Not a very creditable 
mark in German and only 75 in Latin." 

"Languages always came hard to him." 

"That's the way it Is with boys who don't have to work 
for a living. They may be very good in things that come 
easy to them but they are too lazy to tackle the hard sub- 
jects. Why, when I was a boy I had to work hard all sum- 
mer and do odd jobs the rest of the year to pay for my 
schooling. I tell you I appreciated my opportunities, be- 
cause they were bought with the sweat of my own brow. 
You've made a big mistake to let your nephew waste his 
summers in camp." 

"But look at what he did there. He developed into a 
first-class boy engineer. He built roads, made an excellent 

I 



2 With the Men who do Things, 

survey of the locality, constructed bridges, log cabins, tree 
huts " 

"Mere play, mere play," interruted McGreggor, impa- 
tiently. "All boys are like that, but give them a really diffi- 
cult task and they are lost. They graduate from school 
with high honors in mathematics, but when they strike col- 
lege algebra, conic sections and calculus, they find that math- 
ematics no longer comes easy to them and down they drop 
to the foot of the class. I tell you I know the type. Boys 
are ungrateful savages. The only way to make men of 
them is to rule them with a rod of iron and»give them a bit 
of the thorny side of life when they are young so that they 
won't feel the pricks and scratches when they have to ven- 
ture forth on their own hook. Why, the boys of to-day 
haven't any idea of the value of money. They don't know 
how hard it is to earn a dollar. Every spare penny I could 
, save when I was a boy went toward the purchase of books — 
not story books, but real books on engineering. And my! 
how I appreciated those books. Hours and hours I pored 
over them by candle light in my attic room while my bones 
cried out for rest after the strenuous day's toil. Oh, I 
knew what a dollar meant. But your nephew here, I'll bet 
you a thousand dollars if he found himself in New York 
with $10 in his pocket, he'd blow it all in at Coney Island." 

Uncle Ed was used to the blunt talk of his gruff associate, 
but a flush mounted to his temples at that last remark. How- 
ever, he kept his temper. "Your advice on raising boys is 
rather trite, don't you think? It is all very well for some 



Uncle Ed's Wager. 3 

boys, but I take exception to your statement that all boys 
are alike. I have seen as many varieties as there are dis- 
eases, and each one calls for its own specific treatment. 
Now I know Bill as well as if he were my own child; for 
haven't I been his father since his own parents died six 
years ago? I am not going to take you up on your foolish 
bet; I wouldn't tie up a thousand dollars in that senseless 
way; but I am going to put the boy to a test. I am going 
to give him that thousand dollars to use as he sees fit and 
we shall see what he does with it." 

"Whatl" ejaculated Dr. McGreggor, **a thousand dollars 
to a mere boy! You will ruin him." 

"Oh, no," answered Uncle Ed, "I know Bill. He will 
render a good account of every penny. If he isn't the boy 
I think he is, the sooner I find it out the better. I can then 
set him to work at something and save myself the cost of 
putting him through college." 

"Of course if you give him a threat with the money he 
may be sensible enough not to squander it all." 

"The money will be given him without strings of any 
sort. I shall have to be abroad all summer and he will be 
under no supervision whatsoever. I shall merely suggest 
that he take his chum, Jim, with him (those two are almost 
inseparable) and spend his summer seeing New York, also 
that he keep a diary." 

" 'Seeing New York,' " quoted Dr. McGreggor with a 
laugh. "He'll do that all right." 



CHAPTER II. 
FIRST EVENING IN THE BIG CITY. 

Of course neither Bill nor I knew anything of the wager 
in the foregoing chapter, Uncle Ed was a day out on the 
Atlantic when Bill received his letter apprising him of the 
bare fact that there was a thousand dollars to his credit in 
the Graham Bank, which he could spend in seeing New 
York with me, also that Uncle Ed wished to see a full 
account of his vacation experiences on his return in the fall. 

On the following day the village postmaster handed me 
a letter. It was from Bill, of course. No one could mis- 
take his scrawl. It began in his characteristic style : 

"Hello, Jim: — Want you to chaperon me this summer 
in New York. We are to be all alone and may see whatever 
we choose of the old town. Uncle Ed has put up a thousand 
dollars to pay expenses. We'll have a dandy time. Will 
you come?" • 

Would I come I I didn't stop to read the letter twice but 
started for home at a pace that would have set a new 
world's record had there been any official around to time me. 
I burst into the front door and bounded upstairs to mother's 
room three steps at a time, making the old house tremble 
with my awkward stride. Outside her door I stopped 
abruptly and considered. A sickening thought seized me. 

4 , 



First Evening in the Big City. 5 

It was but a moment's pause, but in that moment the joy 
that had borne my spirits rocketing skyward, suddenly died 
and down they fell. Of course mother would not let me go. 

Just then mother, alarmed at the noise, opened the door. 
The situation she took in at a glance and she gathered me 
into her arms as if I were a child — I, the big lumbering lad 
who could look down on her silvered head from the proud 
altitude of 5 feet 8^4 inches. Mother knew all about it, 
oddly enough, and raised not a single objection, but rejoiced 
with me over my good fortune. Uncle Ed, master general 
that he was, never made a move without attending to all 
the minutest details. He had written to father and mother 
and had persuaded them that certainly no harm, and possibly 
much good, might result from this unique summer's outing. 
Tfheir consent was obtained before I could ask it, and all I 
had to do was to write Bill a formal acceptance and arrange 
.for a meeting place. 

The tiresome details of getting ready, packing my trunk, 
etc., form no vital part of my story and if the reader is half 
as anxious as I was, to get to our real experiences, we can 
well afford to skip the unimportant particulars that occupied 
me before I finally set foot in New York. 

I could boast of having spent a day in New York once, 
but Bill had been in the big city at least half a dozen times 
and, naturally, he felt that he must do the piloting. He had 
already found a furnished room on a cross street somewhere 
in the TweHties for $6 a week and table board in the base- 
ment of a house three doors down, for $5 each. Sixteen 



6 First Evening in the Big City. 

dollars per week! It seemed like rank extravagance but 
Bill said we couldn't possibly do it any cheaper. 

It was after six when we reached our quarters and we 
lost no time prinking for dinner. It seemed like my first day 
in boarding-school as we walked into the dining-room and 
waited awkwardly for the waitress to seat us at one of the 
two long tables. When I got over my embarrassment suffi- 
ciently to take a survey of my surroundings I was surprised 
to find that the whole dining-room was not staring at me. 
After that I managed to compose myself and really ate a 
hearty dinner. Bill did not seem at all abashed and entered 
into quite a lively conversation with the little old lady at the 
end of the table. 

When we got back to our room I found that my trunk had 
arrived. By the time it was unpacked and my things stowed 
away it had grown quite dark. We strolled out then to see 
the busy old town by lamp-light. 

We had not gone far when the shriek of a fire whistle rose 
above the din of street noises and a moment later the fire 
apparatus swung around the corner and down the avenue at 
a map gallop, trailing fire and black smoke. It was like red 
flannel to a bullfrog. The bait was too much for us. We 
lit out after it. Why was no one else running to the fire? 
Bother the crowd, anyway. Everyone got in our way. How 
could we keep the engine in sight at that pace? A hook and 
ladder passed us, then a tower; presently a hose wagon, 
closely followed by another engine. We ran a mile and still 
the apparatus kept passing us. 



First Evening in the Big City, 7 

"Must be some fire," panted Bill, "but I don't see any 
blaze. Guess it's miles off." 

"Don't give up yet. I am going to keep on till I get 
there, even if I have to run ten miles." 

We started off again and presently found ourselves dov/n 
in City Hall Park, nearly two miles from home with still 
no engines in sight; but an occasional whistle told us that 
the fire could not be far off, A few blocks further and 
we came upon the first of the engines panting away down a 
dark side street belching forth volumes of smoke that ob- 
scured the dim street lamps. Fire engines were all around, 
down every side street. There must have been 20 or 30, 
each one pouring forth clouds of black soot. Now and then 
they tooted a call for the fuel wagon. 

But where was the fire? We followed a hose line down 
a narrow street that did not seem to be much more than an 
alley; It certainly was not wide enough for two teams to 
pass. Through a rift in the smoke clouds I could see the 
tall buildings on either side rising until they almost met 
overhead. A policeman halted us at the foot of the alley 
and turned us back. We ran around the next block and 
were stopped again. At the third attempt we managed to 
get into position to see the fire. There was quite a crowd 
there watching the operations. The fire was not much to 
see, just smoke, smoke everywhere, through which filtered 
the beam of a searchlight directing the movements of the 
fire fighters. It was a building about eight stories high that 
was burning and It appeared to us that the fire was getting 



8 With the Men Who Do Things. 

beyond control, for suddenly there was a big burst of flame. 
The spectacle was magnificent and full of intense excitement 
to boys with red blood In their veins. We could see the 
firemen running around. Some were wielding their axes. 
Three men were hanging to a writhing hose, and they had 
all they could do to handle it. We realized the power of 
the water, for we were standing on a line of hose ourselves 
and we could feel it swell up under us. In the foreground 
was the tower reaching up some 60 feet from the ground 
and pouring a steady stream upon the fire from Its high 
vantage point. The stream was evidently directed by a man 
on the truck below. Suddenly there was a warning cry 
above the din and racket. The men ran for shelter and the 
entire front of the building fell forward, burying the tower 
and an engine near by. An instant later there was a burst 
of water that threw Bill and myself to the ground. The 
hose had given away directly beneath us, simply drenching 
us from head to foot. 

"Guess I have had enough," I spluttered, "where's 
home?" 

"Eleven o'clock already," said Bill, looking at his watch. 
"The folks will all be abed and we haven't any key." 

It looked pretty black. Two poor waifs drenched to the 
skin and destined to walk the streets all night. But despite 
the lateness of the hour New York seemed surprisingly wide 
awake, and when we reached our lodgings the landlady 
promptly admitted us without a word of reproof, though 
she looked askance at our bedraggled clothing. 




Copyright 1911 by Underwood &• Underwood 

FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE BROADW^AY, 



CHAPTER III. 

THE "RUBBER NECK" AUTO. 

"Well, what shall we see first?" asked Bill as we stowed 
away the coffee and "ham and." 

"This is a great day for Coney Island," I replied, "and 
the Hippodrome, I want to take that in, and then there is 

the What's the matter?" The withering scorn on Bill's 

face halted me. 

"I thought better of you than that, Jim. Do you suppose 
Uncle Ed gave us a thousand dollars to spend on shows?" 

I felt decidedly humiliated and badly nettled by his man- 
ner. "But I thought we were to see New York." 

"Look here, Jim, there is more to New York than shows. 
What would Uncle Ed think if we started our diary with 
a description of Coney Island?" 

"Our diary?" 

"Yes, didn't I tell you we had to write an account of 
everything we do?" 

"Oh, I see," said I, with all the sarcasm I could muster. 
"So you would, rather go to Coney Island, too, if it were not 
for the diary." 

"Oh, come off, Jim. What's the use of starting out with 
a quarrel. Uncle Ed would not kick if we spent every cent 
in a penny arcade, but I have a notion that he expects more 

9 



10 With the Men Who Do Things. 

of us than that. Now I should like to see how they are 
building those tunnels under the river and the bridges over 
them, and what's more I know you would, too. Then there 
is the Navy Yard and the power stations and a hundred 
other sights." 

"If you know what you want to see why did you ask me 
about it?" I returned, still irritated at his rebuke. 

"Say, but you are touchy, Jim. I haven't made any plans 
yet because I thought we could make them out together. 
As long as Uncle Ed deposited the money in my name I 
think I shall have to be the treasurer of this association, 
and since you have always been handier than I with the 
pen I suggest that you hold the office of recording secretary. 
As for president, vice-president and the rest of the official 
positions, we can share those honors together. Is that 
agreeable to you, Pard?" 

"Quite," I answered. "As long as you hold the purse 
strings it is very evident that I shall have to do as you say. 
Just what are your plans for the day?" 

"Let us start with a general survey of the city. Suppose 
we get aboard a 'rubber-neck' auto and make a tour of the 
town so as to get acquainted with the principal points of 
interest." 

"All right, Bill. I am agreeable." 

After inquiring -at a hotel where sight-seeing cars started 
from, eventually we found one which was due to begin its 
trip down town in five minutes. It was a very novel experi- 
ence to me and to Bill too, for although he had seen the city 



The "Rubber Neck" Auto. Ii 

on several occasions, his visits had always been very brief 
and really he knew scarcely any more about the town that I 
did. We were all eyes, and we absorbed every nasal word 
that the megaphone man called out. When we got down 
to the tall buildings we were gaping like country gawks, 
particularly as we came alongside the new Manhattan Syn- 
dicate Building, whose skeleton of steel already reached 500 
feet in the air. The funny thing about it was that the walls 
were not built from the ground up, but started from about 
the fifth floor; bekw that there was nothing but open steel 
work. Even when we were blocks away we had to crane our 
necks to see the top of the building. As we came nearer 
we could hear the tr-r-r-r- of the pneumatic rivetting ham- 
mers that sounded like locusts on a hot day. 

"And those iron workers," recited the megaphone man, 
"have no more fear of falling than a sparrow. They will 
run along a beam only six inches wide like a squirrel on a 
telephone cable, and leap from one perch to another when 
a single misstep, the slightest misjudgment, the falter of 
an eye would mean a fearful plunge of 500 feet, fifteen 
seconds of awful suspense before crashing to the pavement, 
with a velocity ten times that of an express train!" 

Up on the very top of a post that projected 25 feet above 
the rest of the structure I could see a man standing and 
waiting for a beam that was slowly swung toward him by 
a derrick. A sickening feeling seized me, my knees grew 
weak, and I shrank into a huddle of fright as he reached far 
out for thei beam. My nervqs were at such a tension that 



12 With the Men Who Do Things. 

when Bill nudged me I fairly bellowed: "What's the 
matter?" 

"Say, the old duffer is a fraud," he said. 

"What do you mean?" 

"He Is simply trying to make a sensation but he has mis- 
taken his audience this time." 

"Who, the iron worker?" I asked In bewilderment. 

"No, no, the megaphone howler. His mathematics are 

away off and he thinks he can fool us. Why it would not 

take six seconds for a body to drop 500 feet. See here are 

my figures." He showed me the following formulae: 

V Space fallen through 

Time== ; 

4.01 

2 X space 

Velocity== . 

Time 

"The velocity figures to only 179 feet per second, or less 
■ than 125 miles an hour." 

"Well, that would be enough to jar even your head If you 
should happen to land on It," I remarked. 

"Certainly," said Bill, missing the point; "it Is bad 
enough as It stands without any exaggeration. I am going 
to expose that fellow." 

In the meantime the megaphone man had seen Bill figur- 
ing and covering him with his horn he said: "Don't butt 
in, young feller, I know what I am talking about. If I 
didn't double up the figures they wouldn't like It." And 
he gave us a knowing wink. 



The ''Rubber Neck'' Auto. 13 

This was more than Bill could grasp. He always took 
things so literally and was such a stickler for the truth. 
"Shucks," he said, when the ride was over, "I couldn't trust 
a thing that fellow had to say. We will have to go all 
over the ground ourselves and verify his statements. Let 
us go down to that building and find out something about 
it. It would make a good subject to start the diary." 

Immediately after luncheon we set out for the Manhattan 
Syndicate Building. When we got there we found a big 
crowd of spectators standing around and gazing skyward. 
Suspended by a thread 200 feet above them was a section 
of steel pipe that looked rather large, how big it was I 
did not realize until I paced one of the sections lying on the 
ground. It was fully 25 feet long and almost big enough 
for a horse to walk through. But there was that section 
dangling uncertainly above the heads of hundreds of people 
on cables that looked as frail as the threads of a spider 
web, while standing on the pulley block a veritable pigmy 
above the enormous steel cylinder, was a man holding to 
the center rope and directing operations while the ropes on 
either side of him were running up or down at different 
speeds. We watched him as he was carried up until he had 
to stoop to avoid the boom of the derrick at the top of the 
building. Then the boom was swung up, drawing the 
cylinder into the building and out of sight. 

"Come on. Bill," I said, "let's go up and see what they 
are going to do with it." 



CHAPTER IV. 
FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE BROAD>VAY. 

We walked In what appeared to be the main entrance 
on Broadway. No one stopped us and we wandered about 
rather aimlessly. Here and there were busy groups of men. 
Though we were on the street level we could look down 
at one place about four stories. There was an engine room 
below us and a place where they were mixing mortar, putting 
it in wheelbarrows, and then shooting it up, wheelbarrows 
and all, to the upper floors, in elevators that moved at 
terrific speed. 

"I wonder where the passenger elevator is," said Bill. 

"I guess that is it," I replied, pointing to a ladder. 

"Looks good enough for me," he rejoined. "It leads 
upward, anyway." 

It was a broad double ladder, so arranged that one could 
go up while another went down. We raced up the ladder side 
by side and reached the floor above, neck and neck, all out 
of breath. 

"Say, how many stories of this are there?" I asked. 

"I counted thirty-nine from the street." 

"Well, excuse me. If I've got to climb thirty-nine ladders 
like this I resign right here. There must be an elevator 
somewhere." 

14 



Five Hundred Feet Above Broadway. 15 

"There is one over there," exclaimed Bill, "and the car 
is just going up." 

We ran over and jumped aboard. A man hailed us on 
the way, but we did not stop to answer him. The gate of 
the elevator shaft was slammed shut and we were off before 
he could ask any questions. The elevator was a large 
wooden box, big enough for about 15 men to squeeze into 
arid with no door to it. As we were the last aboard we had 
the pleasure of standing at the very edge of this open side, 
shrinking back as far as we could for fear of striking the 
door frames of the shaft as we sped past the successive 
landings. The men in the elevator looked at us curiously, 
but no one challenged us. At the twenty-eighth floor the 
elevator stopped and we all got out. The floors were laid 
and there did not seem to be anything very exciting about 
our adventure so far. No walls were up as yet, but the out- 
side girders were so deep all around the floor that they 
formed a sort of low parapet which kept a fellow from 
feeling that he was going to fall off when he went to the 
edge of the building. 

Projecting from the girder about ':en feet apart were 
brackets from which was suspended a scaffold seven stories 
below where men were at work on the walls. Below that 
was Broadway filled with animated little specks, each tiny 
man no doubt fully conscious of his own importance. We 
could look down at one side on the spire of a church and 
I remember seeing a sparrow fly out of a chink in the steeple. 
I could look down with contempt upon the bird from this 



1 6 With the Men Who Do Things. 



% 



loftier dwelling. How flat everything looked, yet the hori- 
zon was on a level with my eyes. I could easily trace 
the Hudson River from the Palisades to Governor's 
Island where it joined the East River, broadened out 
into the Upper Bay, squeezed through the Narrows, and 
then spread out into the Lower Bay. Off to the south 
the Atlantic Highlands showed clearly, and the Orange 
Mountains formed a ragged horizon to the west. The day 
was superb for long-distance seeing. There was not a cloud 
in the sky, not a trace of haze In the air. 

"Gee, but I wish I had brought my camera," shouted Bill, 
above the racket of the rl vetting hammers. 

"Yes, and I wish I had brought a cap. This blamed 
straw hat won't stay on." The wind was blowing a veritable 
gale. In the streets it was bad enough, but here there was 
no protection from it, and It swept by us at something like 
50 miles an hour. I noticed that the men did not seem to 
have any trouble. Those who wore caps turned them like 
aviators, front for back, with the peak pointed up, so that 
the wind could not lift them, and tear them off their heads. 

"Well, we had better proceed with our Investigations, 
Bill," I said. "There is no use dreaming here all day." 
We spied a stairway near the elevator, which we mounted. 
The thirty-first story looked so like the thirtieth that we did 
not linger but went on up to the thirty-second. Here a gang 
of archmen were putting In the floor arches. I was aston- 
ished to find that the "arches" were perfectly flat and made 
of hollow tiles. A platform of planks was hung from the 




HOW CITY HALL LOOKS TO THE STEEL CONSTRUCTION MAN. 










I 
















Five Hundred Feet Above Broadway. 



17 



beams to support the tiles until they were all set in place, 
as shown in Fig, i. In the center of the arch a wedge- 
shaped tile served as a key to keep the floor from caving 
in. It was impossible for the tiles to be pushed through 
without spreading the steel floor beams apart. 

There were no treads on the stairway leading to the next 
floor and so we had to hunt for a ladder. To reach the 
ladder we were obliged to pass an open shaft with no rail 
around it. It seemed to run all the way to the ground floor. 
We walked along a plank which lay at the foot of a high 




FIG. I. HOW THE HOLLOW TILES OF A FLOOR ARCH ARE ARRANGED. 



pile of lumber at the very brink of this deep well. I knew 
better than to look down, because I was too apt to get dizzy, 
but Bill caught hold of a cable and leaned far over the edge. 
Suddenly the cable moved up, yanking Bill almost off his 
feet. I caught and steadied him or he might have pitched 
overboard. 

"Look here, Bill," I shouted, "what's the use of taking 
chances? Suppose that cable had started running down; 
nothing could have saved you." 



1 8 With the Men Who Do Things, 

"How did I know the cable was alive?" 

"That's just the point, because you didn't know, you 
couldn't afford to be careless." 

We climbed on up to the thirty-sixth story and found no 
flooring except some boards here and there. That ladder 
did not take us any further, but we saw one off to the right 
at the outside of the building. Up this ladder Bill climbed 
and I followed him. The wind was blowing so hard that 
most of the time I had to hold my hat on. There was 
nothing between us and eternity but this frail ladder. Be- 
low us was the street — 500 feet sheer. The ladder was a 
double one, like the others, but was not secured, and to 
make matters worse, half way up there was a temporary 
platform which projected across our path, so that we had 
to reach far out to one side and worm our way past It. 
When we reached the thirty-seventh story, I determined I 
had enough. There was absolutely no flooring on the next 
story, but the thirty-ninth apparently was provided with a 
complete plank flooring. 

"No, sir, Bill, not on a day like this. I'm going no 
higher when I have to hold my hat on all the time." Even 
as I spoke a board fell down from the floor above us within 
a couple of feet of my head. I looked up and saw a man 
grinning. I am sure he dropped the board on purpose. 

"Well, I'm not going to quit as long as we are so near 
the top. Here, you watch my hat," he said, placing it on a 
board and wedging the brim under a steel beam. "I don't 
need a hat. I'm going all the way to the top." 



Five Hundred Feet Above Broadway. 19 

I watched Bill climb up steadily, story after story, until 
he disappeared through the hatchway in the top floor. 

I was up among the riveters and their pneumatic hammers 
were pounding away with a noise like the grating of a giant 
locust, and so loud that it deafened me. I watched a gang 
at work on my floor. There were four in the gang. One 
had a forge to which he fed air with a blower turned by a 
hand crank. In this forge he was heating rivets. Every 
once in a while he would pick out an incandescent rivet with 
his tongs and sling It easily but with perfect aim over to 
a man who sat carelessly on a girder close to where the 
riveting was done. This man had a bucket In which he 
caught the rivet; then he picked out the glowing bit of 
metal with his tongs and placed it in the hole it was to 
occupy. A third man held a huge sledge hammer with 
cupped head against the head of the rivet, while the fourth 
battered down the incandescent end of the rivet with the 
pneumatic hammer. 

Suddenly something struck my straw hat and bounded 
to the planks at my feet spluttering fire. I was so startled 
that I jumped a yard; then I realized my hat was on fire. 
I threw it to the floor and stamped out the blaze amid the 
guffaws of a gang of riveters overhead. 

"Hellow, Babe," they shouted. "Does your mother know 
you're out? Say skeeters is pretty hot up here, eh? Don't 
cry. Your big bruwer will be down in a minute. Cheese 
it! here comes the boss!" 

A young man, but powerfully built, ran easily up the lad- 



20 With the Men Who Do Things. 

der from the floor below, caught sight of me and stopped 
short. 

"Well, for the land of Jehosopkat! Where did you blow 
in from?" 

"I am just taking a look at the building." 

"So I see, but how in thunder did you get here?" 

"I took the elevator as far up as it would go and climbed 
the rest of the way." 

"But don't you know you can't enter this building without 
a permit? Where was the watchman? Didn't he stop you?" 

"I didn't see any." 

"Which way did you come in?" 

"Why, I just walked in from the " I hesitated. "Look 

here, I don't want to get any one into trouble." 

"O, well, you don't need to tell me. That rascal — I 
know which one it is — he just went around back of the 
shanty for a pull at the flask. The superintendent threat- 
ened to fire him only yesterday, but gave him one more 
chance. The old fool can't keep sober. Hate to have him 
thrown out of a job, though. Glad you refused to tell me 
who let you in. You did refuse to, didn't you ? Well then, 
I don't really know who it was, do I?" appealingly. 

"No, no," I reassured him. 

"Say, you look as if you had come out of a bandbox. 
Have the boys been having a little fun with you? Where 
is your hat? Oh, I see, you stuck it under that girder." 

"No, that's Bill's hat." 

"Bill? Who's Bill?" 



Five Hundred Feet Above Broadway. 21 

"My chum, he's gone on up to the top." 

"The dickens he has I I'll have to go up and see about it. 
I've got to smuggle you out of here without letting the 
superintendent know. It is not on your account, you young 
rascals, but because of that old Jerry. He can't pick up a 
job anywhere and ever)rwhere like you young chaps, and 
he won't hold this one very long, either. You get over 
there a ways where the boys can't meddle with your haber- 
dashery." 

I took his advice and watched him run up to the top of 
the building. In view of my previous experience it seemed 
advisable to look up and avoid further trouble. The guying 
I had received rankled in me. I was only cautious, I said 
to myself, I wasn't really afraid, but it seemed useless to 
take further risks. I assured myself that if any one's life 
depended on it I could run around on steel girders as reck- 
lessly as any iron-worker. I watched one fellow overhead. 
He picked up a board and was walking along a beam only a 
few Inches wide. A gust of wind caught the board and 
swung him around. I marveled that he kept his balance, 
but he didn't look alarmed ; it was all In the day's work. 



CHAPTER V. 
ALL ABOUT SKYSCRAPERS. 

Before long Bill and the "Boss" darkened the hole In 
the top floor and began to climb down, their coats flapping 
wildly in the howling gale. 

"Say, it was great up there," exclaimed Bill, when he 
reached my story. ^'You certainly missed it. That setting 
gang is a nervy bunch of men. They were setting a girder 
In place across the top of two columns. Two men were 
standing on the ends while It dangled from the derrick and 
swung around in the wind. They couldn't quite get it Into 
position because the wind was blowing so hard, until a third 
fellow climbed to the top of the column like a monkey, and 
stuck to It like a fly, holding on with his knees and one hand, 
while he stretched out over Broadway, caught the hand of 
the other fellow on the girder, and pulled the end of the 
girder in place. I see you've lost your hat," continued Bill, 
as he stooped to get his own. 

I was relating my experiences to him when the "Boss" 
came back from the inspection of some rivetting and 
hailed us. 

"Here Bill and you — ^what's your name?'* 

"Jim," I supplied. 

"You and Jim come down with me. I have got to keep 

22 



All About Skyscrapers. - 23 

you at the rear of the building or the superintendent might 
see you." 

"All right, Mr. Hotchkiss." Bill had already learned his 
name, also that he was the assistant superintendent on his 
afternoon tour of inspection. "He makes two trips from 
top to bottom every day," said Bill, when there was a lull 
in the racket made by the pneumatic hammers. 

At each story Mr. Hotchkiss left us to make ourselves 
as inconspicuous as possible while he walked around to look 
at the character and progress of the work. At every oppor- 
tunity Bill quizzed him and he was always good natured 
enough to answer our questions explicitly. 

I was astonished to learn that every steel piece in the 
building was numbered and had a fixed place on the plans. 
"Why, certainly," said Mr. Hotchkiss, "this whole building 
is constructed on paper first. Every part is figured out in 
proportion to the load It has to carry, and then the parts 
are made at the factory. The holes are drilled for the rivets 
and everything is prepared so that we can put the pieces 
together with as little work as possible. First the setting 
gang assembles the parts, fastening them with a few bolts, 
just enough to keep them in place, then the fitting gang 
goes over the work, reams out holes that do not quite match 
and corrects any little misfits due to the warping of the 
metal. Finally the riveting gang comes along and replaces 
the bolts with rivets." 

Mr. Hotchkiss hurried off to see the boss of the arch- 
men, while we prepared more questions to spring on him. 



24 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"They've got to hurry up with those floors," said Mr. 
Hotchkiss when he came back. "We are not allowed to let 
the steel work get more than three stories ahead of the 
floors. We are way behind now, and there is liable to be 
trouble. The archmen can't keep up to the iron-workers. 
It takes them only about five days to put up two stories of 
steel work. The columns," he explained, "are always two 
stories high. The entire steel work for two stories at a 
time is ordered from the storage yard over at Bayonne, a 
couple of days before we need it. There a man sorts out 
the numbers we call for and ships the stuff on a lighter to 
the Battery, after which it is drawn by horses to the build- 
ing. Sometimes the load Is pretty heavy. The heaviest 
piece we tried to handle was a girder weighing 61^2 tons. 
It was eight feet high, nearly eight feet wide, and about 

25 feet long. Wc did the hauling one Sunday morning, 
when the streets were deserted. It took 42 horses to pull 
that load, with 14 drivers to urge them on. The heavily 
weighted truck cracked and crushed through manhole 
covers as if they were nuts. I tell you it was some proces- 
sion; and then, when we tried to lift the girder, the fun 
began. It takes some time to balance a load like that, you 
know, and we had just got everything fixed and the girder 
a foot or two off the truck, when down she came with a 
bang that put the truck out of commission for keeps. A 
'goose neck' of the derrick had broken, one of the heavy 
steel pieces about two inches thick at the top of the mast of 
the derrick that joins It to the two slanting legs." 




PICKING OUT AN INCANDESCENT RIVET WITH HIS TONGS. 




HAND RIVETING WHERE PNEUMATIC HAMMERS CANNOT BE USED. 



All About Skyscrapers. 2$ 

"Wasn't the girder smashed?" we queried. 

"Oh, no, it wasn't hurt in the least. We took it apart — 
you know it is built up of plates and channels — and hauled 
it up in three separate sections." 

"Where are the engines that work the derricks?" asked 
Bill. 

"On the same story with the derricks at the start, but 
the derricks are moved up, story after story, until they are 
six or eight stories above the engine, before the engine is 
moved." 

"And the signals," I put in, "how do you manage them?" 

"At first we had a man stand at the edge of the building, 
on the floor where the work was going on, and he sent sig- 
nals to the engineer, by pulling a rope that rang a bell. 
Now that the building has reached such a height we have 
the signals sent by electricity from the ground to the man on 
the floor where the derrick is set. He in turn touches a 
button that communicates the signal to the engineer." 

I thought my adventures were over. We no longer had 
to crawl down ladders, for we had reached the iron stair- 
ways at the rear of the building, but we had one more ex- 
perience and It was a thriller. To save time Mr. Hotchkiss 
bade us go down five flights and wait for him, as he had to 
attend to some work at the front of the building and would 
find his way down by another stairway. On the third flight 
down, the stairway was blocked by a pile of building ma- 
terials, and the only thing for us to do was to walk across 
an open shaft on a beam not over a foot wide and jump 



26 With the Men Who Do Things, 

from there to the landing, about eight feet below. The 
beam was at the outside of the building and there was a 
drop of ten stories from It to a narrow scaffold. I was 
leading and I took In the situation at a glance. Ever since 
my experience on the thirty-seventh story, the taunts of the 
rivetting gang had been rankling within me. I was no 
coward, I kept assuring myself, If necessity arose I was 
positive that I could walk a fence rail over Niagara Falls. 
Here was my chance to prove it. I would show BUI, and 
any one else who happened to be looking, just what I was 
made of. 

All this went through my brain like a flash, and without 
a moment's hesitation I mounted the beam and walked 
confidently along It, my eyes on the opposite side. But the 
wind was blowing so hard that I had to lean out over the 
side of the building to keep my equilibrium. I hadn't ven- 
tured three steps when my eyes took In the awful depth 
below me. At once ,a sickening horror seized me. I 
wavered and grew dizzy. Something seemed to be drag- 
ging me, forcing me out over that yawning depth. I reeled, 
clutching at the air for some support. Just then a sudden 
lull In the wind made me lunge outward. Everything grew 
black before me. I felt a twist at my back, a wrench, and 
then a crash and a succession of bumps. 

Bill had run up behind me, seized me by the knees, in 
a flying tackle, at the same time half-falling and half-jump- 
ing for the stair landing. We struck it and rolled down 
the stairs, fetching up on the floor below. I don't know 



All About Skyscrapers. 27 

what I looked like, but Bill's face was the color of ashes 
and beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. We 
sat there staring foolishly at each other for a full minute. 

"Bill, you old chump," I said, "you saved my life." 

"Oh, cut it!" Bill replied. 

We picked ourselves up painfully, brushed our clothes 
and went shakily down to the story where we were to meet 
Mr. Hotchkiss. Fortunately we had a long wait, which 
gave us plenty of time to compose ourselves. 

"Say, Jim," said Bill, "we set out to find out about those 
big cylinders they were hoisting to the top of the building, 
and here we have forgotten all about them." When Mr. 
Hotchkiss came back we asked him all about it. 

"That," he said, "is the smokestack. It will run up to 
the very top of the building." 

"It must be very heavy," I ventured. 

"Oh, no, not at all. It is made of light stuff. It looks 
heavy because It Is so bulky. Each section is two stories 
high and Is supported by brackets on the floor beams, so 
that there Is no more weight on the bottom section than on 
the top. The sections are not riveted together, but are 
connected by slip joints. That gets rid of any trouble 
from expansion and contraction, you see," 

"You must be going to have quite a powerful plant to 
need such a smokestack." 

"It will be quite a plant, 2,400 horsepower. It takes a 
lot of power to run a building like this. We expect to have 
from 7,000 CO 9,000 tenants. That makes a good-sized 



28 With the Men Who Do Things. 

town, eh? And we are going to supply them with 81,000 
lamps. Why, there will be enough wire in this building to 
reach from New York to Philadelphia." 

A few stories further down we came across the men who 
were building the walls. I was astonished to find that 
what had looked from the street like marble was really 
terra-cotta coated on one side with a sort of enamel. It 
seemed like a fraud, but Mr. Hotchkiss explained that this 
material was not only cheaper, but in every way better, than 
real stone. It was much lighter and was thoroughly water- 
proof. No water could soak into it to freeze and chip or 
flake-off the surface, in winter time. He explained how it 
was that the walls were not started at the ground floor. 
Each story carried its own wall, supported on brackets, and 
so the wall could be begun anywhere. As the first four 
stories were to be of stone and the work of setting the 
stone was comparatively slow, there was no necessity of 
waiting for the stone work to be completed before going 
on with the terra-cotta. The walls were actually built of 
brick with a facing of enamelled terra-cotta attached to 
the brick by means of metal straps or bands. The only 
reason for using real stone on the lower stories was because 
the imitation could too easily be detected so near the street. 
Large blocks of stone were used, and these had to be set 
in place very carefully. Some were left rough so that 
they could be carved. As with the steel work, every piece 
bore a number which designated the particular spot it was 
to occupy; even the terra-cotta pieces were numbered. It 



All About Skyscrapers. 29 

impressed me greatly to find that every piece of the wall 
was accounted for, and my respect for the architect went 
up a hundred-fold. It seemed almost like keeping count 
of the very hairs on one's head. Mr. Hotchkiss told us 
that all the ornamental terra-cotta was designed on paper, 
full size, sheets ten and twelve feet long being required 
for some of the pieces. 

"When the walls are finished I should think the build- 
ing would rock like everything In such a gale as we are 
having today." 

"Rock? Oh, no, you would never know there was any 
wind whatever if the windows didn't rattle. Some build- 
ings sway enough to set pictures all askew, but we have 
made this tower so solid it can withstand a wind of 200 
miles per hour, and the record In New York Is less than 
100. The building code of the city makes us provide for 
a wind pressure of 30 pounds per square foot over the 
whole surface." 

We had reached the sidewalk by that time without run- 
ning across the superintendent and Mr. Hotchkiss felt much 
more free to stop and converse with us. 

"Aren't you ever going to reach the height limit of these 
tall buildings? I should think they would soon be too 
heavy for their foundations." 

"Not at all, not at all," said Mr. Hotchkiss, looking 
around for an illustration. Then he fumbled in his pock- 
ets and pulled out a small bolt. Unscrewing the nut he 
measured it and found that It was a scant inch square. 



30 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"That's less than one square inch, eh?" 

We nodded assent. Then he placed the nut on the 
ground and stood on it. "There, now I am subjecting the 
ground to a greater strain than is this whole building." 

We looked at him incredulously. "Yes, I weigh 210 
pounds. Two hundred and ten pounds on one square inch 
makes how much per square foot? Reckon it up." 

Bill had his note book and pencil out in a jiffy and started 
figuring. "Fifteen tons per square foot," he announced 
presently. 

"That's it. The building regulations of this city do not 
allow a weight of more than 15 tons per square foot on 
the foundations. A foolish regulation, in my estimation, 
based on the idea that concrete would crush under a heavier 
load than that ; but the kind of concrete we have nowadays, 
thoroughly reinforced with steel, will stand a far greater 
pressure. You can see for yourselves how ridiculously light 
the load is when you figure it down to square inches. Why, 
many a fat woman, who picks her way across a muddy 
street on her French heels, violates the building code for 
foundation pressures." 

"But I can't believe," I protested, "that a big building 
like this puts a strain of only 210 pounds on the ground. 
Do you mean to say that if you cut a sliver out of this wall 
from top to bottom and only an inch thick by one inch 
wide it would not weigh more than 210 pounds?" 

"Well, not exactly that. If your sliver was cut out of 
one of the steel columns it would weigh eight or ten times 



All About Skyscrapers. 31 

as much as that, and if it were cut out of the elevator shaft 
it would be as light as air. You must remember that very 
little of this building is solid all the way up. At the bottom 
of the columns there is a foot piece that spreads the weight 
over a large area of concrete. There are 69 concrete 
piers under this building. It is a regular centipede with 
concrete legs all over that stand on rock 120 feet below 
the sidewalk. Some of those legs are 20 feet in diameter. 
You will find that there are quite a few square inches in 
the foundation supports of this building. Altogether the 
finished structure is going to weigh something like a hun- 
dred thousand tons, with an allowance of twenty thousand 
tons more for wind pressure. That isn't very much when 
you consider the size of the building. If you threw the 
building into the ocean it would float, provided the doors 
and windows did not leak. What is more, fully five-sixths 
of the building would project out of the water. The 
United States Bureau of Standards is now making some 
tests to see just how much the steel columns will be com- 
pressed by the weight they have to support. They have 
made two very fine markings, about 20 inches apart, near 
the base of one of the columns, and every now and then 
they take measurements to see whether the distance between 
these marks has been diminished. Their instruments will 
measure differences of one ten thousandth of an inch. It is 
probable that when the building is completed the steel 
columns will actually be compressed about an inch and a 
half under the weight they have to support. 



32 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"Oh, we haven't reached the height limit by any means. 
Somebody has figured out just how tall a building could 
be erected on a plot 200 feet square without violating the 
building code. He estimated that the building would be 
150 stories high, reaching 2,000 feet in the air; and it 
would weigh 516,500 tons. It would cost $60,000,000, 
and it would have to withstand a wind pressure of 6,000 
tons. As a matter of fact, it would take something like 
50,000 tons of wind pressure to upset the structure. Of 
course, a building like this would not stand on concrete 
legs, but would have a single solid foundation pier 200 
feet square, running down to bed rock. If the steel worK 
could be erected directly on the rock, without any concrete 
between, no doubt permission could be obtained to add a 
few more stories on top. Up-town they don't have to 
bother with deep foundations as we do." 

"Did you really have to dig down 120 feet for the 
foundation for this building?" asked Bill. 

"Why, certainly we had to. You know how it was done, 
don't you? What! never heard of caisson work? Well, 
there Is a treat In store for you. Five blocks down Broad- 
way they are sinking some caissons now for a 25-story 
building. You go down there and ask for Jim Squires. 
He is a personal friend of mine, and he will show you 
all there is to show. I'll have to be going now. Glad to 
have met you, boys. So long!" 

We shook hands with him, thanked him, and apologized 
for all the trouble we had put him to. 





H s 



5 (^ 



All About Skyscrapers. 33 

"Say," he called, as we moved off, "if you have any 
more questions to ask drop in at the office any time around 
noon and ask for Dick Hotchkiss." 



CHAPTER VI. 
A HUNDRED FEET BELOW BROADWAY. 

Immediately after breakfast on the next day we went 
down town to see how foundations are sunk to bed rock 
in lower New York. The place we wished to investigate 
was enclosed by a high board fence, but projecting far 
above it was a confusion of derricks, concrete mixing 
machines, bucket elevators, enormous wooden boxes and 
curious cylindrical objects from which every once in a while 
would come the sound of a whistle signal followed by a 
loud gasp of escaping air. The lid of the cylinder would 
drop in and a large bucket of dry, white sand would be 
drawn forth and dumped into a hopper; then the bucket 
would be swung back into the yawning mouth of the cylin- 
der and an attendant would swing a lever closing the lid. 
Thereafter there would be a number of toots of the air 
whistle and we could see the bucket cable pay out or in 
in accordance with the signal. 

It all seemed very mysterious and whetted our curiosity. 
We sought out Mr. Squires without further delay. He 
proved to be a very approachable man, the kind that hadn't 
forgotten that he "was a boy once. 

"If Dick Hotchkiss sent you here," he said cordially, 
"you may have anything you wish." 

34 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 35 

Bill explained that we were anxious to know how founda- 
tions are sunk. "Simply a case of dig, dig, dig," said 
Mr. Squires, "until we get to rock; when we get down to 
water we keep It out of the excavation with compressed 
air." 

"How do you do that?" 

"On the same principle as the diving bell. You know 
if you plunge a tumbler mouth down Into a basin of water, 
the air trapped in the tumbler will keep the water from 
filling It completely. If enough air were pumped into the 
tumbler it would be possible to keep out every drop of 
water. We do that very thing in building foundation piers. 
First we make a big diving bell, called a caisson. It is a 
large box of wood or steel or concrete with the top and 
bottom open. At the bottom the box has fairly sharp 
cutting edges; about seven feet up from this cutting edge 
there fs a horizontal partition called the 'deck.' This is 
made very strong, because It has to carry the weight of 
the whole concrete column while the digging is going on. 
'Sand hogs,' as we call them, get into and out of the work- 
ing chamber under this deck through a tube, or 'shafting.' 
They dig away the soil and gravel below, constantly under- 
mining the caisson, so that It gradually sinks into the earth. 
As the caisson Is sunk the concrete pier is built up on Its 
deck and Its weight helps to force the cutting edges Into 
the ground. As the work progresses new caisson sections 
are added on top and the shafting is extended for the sand 
hogs and excavating material." 



36 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"But where does the water come from," I asked. 

"The lower end of New York is built over a deep layer 
of sand and porous soil that is saturated with water from 
the river. About thirty feet below the curb, in this part 
of New York, we come to water, then we have to put on 
the air pressure to keep it out. The first thing we must 
do is to put an "air-lock" on the shafting, so as to let the 
men in and out without losing all the pressure. The lock 
is just a cylinder with a hinged lid or door at the top and 
bottom. One or other of those lids must be closed all the 
time to hold the pneumatic pressure in the caisson. The 
bottom door is closed when the top door is open to let the 
men In. After they enter the lock-tender lifts the upper 
door shut and turns a valve to let the compressed air in. 
All the time the bottom door Is kept closed by the air 
pressure in the shafting below, but as air is let into the 
lock at length its pressure equals that In the caisson, and 
there being nothing to hold up the bottom door, it swings 
open of its own weight, so that the men can go down to 
the working chamber." 

"Say, could we go down Into one of the caissons?" asked 
Bill. 

"Oh no, entirely out of the question," said Mr. Squires. 
Then, as he saw the disappointment In our faces, he ex- 
plained: "There isn't anything to see down there, and it' 
Is pretty dirty work." 

"We don't mind the dirt," I Interrupted. 

"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Squires, hesitating, "you 



M 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 2>7 

say Dick Hotchkiss sent you to me. That settles it, then, 
if you really want to go. Come on to the sand hog house 
and I'll see if I can rig you out in boots and oil skins. But 
hold on! When did you have breakfast? Eight o'clock? 
Didn't have a very substantial meal, did you?" We told 
him what constituted our usual morning fare. "Not 
enough," he said, "run over to that restaurant and fill up 
with all you can eat." 

That seemed like an odd preliminary to our work. 

"Like feeding the murderers just before they are to 
be executed," I remarked. 

"But," Mr. Squires explained, "you are going down 
where you will take in three times as much oxygen with 
every breath. Your in'ards are going to work under forced 
draught and so you must have plenty of fuel on board. It 
is one of the rules that the men cannot go under pneumatic 
pressure except on a full stomach." So we repaired to 
the nearest restaurant and filled our bunkers with broiled 
steak and apple pie. 

"Now we shall see the doctor," said Mr. Squires. 

"The doctor!" we both exclaimed, "why, we are not 
sick!" 

"No, but every one has to undergo a physical examina- 
tion before entering a caisson." 

All this preliminary was most impressive. For the first 
time it occurred to me that there might really be some 
danger, but, shucks, what did I care about dangers as long 
as I could feel good, solid earth beneath me. 



38 With the Men Who Do Things. 

The doctor was such a serious looking man that we never 
for a moment imagined he might play a joke on us. He 
felt of my pulse, looked at my tongue, listened to my heart, 
and then thumped and pounded me unmercifully all about 
my chest and back to see if I were perfectly sound. I tell 
you I was sore before he got through with me. I ached 
all over, but found some consolation in the thought that 
Bill's turn was coming next. After Bill got his, the doctor 
began, in a clerical tone, to sermonize on the awful hazard 
we were inviting upon ourselves. He told us that we were 
to enter a chamber where the air was compressed to over 
three times the density of the atmosphere. *'0n every 
square inch of your body," he said, "there will be a pres- 
sure of 35 pounds above the ordinary pressure of the air, 
and 35 pounds on every inch means 500 on every square 
foot, or about 50 tons on your whole body. Think of 
that, young men, 50 tons! Why, that would smash you 
as flat as a griddle cake if you did not take air of the same 
pressure inside your body, so that it would press out and 
counteract the Inward compression. The weakest spots are 
your ear drums. You will have to look out for them. They 
are liable to burst unless you can get compressed air up 
your eustachian tubes. The only way to do it is to take a 
long breath and then, holding your nose and keeping your 
mouth shut, blow for all you are worth." 

I began to suspect that we were providing a lot of fun 
for these men, but they were both so insistent about It that 
we had to practice blowing, so that we should know how 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 39 

to do it when In the air lock. I learned afterwards that 
that bit of practice was the only really irmportant Item in 
the whole farcical examination. The doctor explained how 
men who didn't heed instructions were sometimes afflicted 
with a dreadful malady known as the "caisson disease." 

"In its very mildest form," he said, "you are seized 
with cramps and shooting pains from which you can get 
no relief. Every bone In your body will ache so that you 
cannot sleep. In the more serious stages you become par- 
alyzed. The paralysis spreads until it strikes a vital organ 
and you die. There Is one simple test of your condition. 
Can you whistle? Yes; well, as long as you can whistle 
you are all right, but if, after you have been in a while, 
you experience any difficulty it means trouble. Your lips 
are losing their sensitiveness, a slow paralysis is coming on." 

At this Mr. Squires had a terrific coughing spell, but 
there 'was not even the flicker of a smile on the doctor's 
face as he waived us off. Mr. Squires led the way up a 
ladder to a platform surrounding one of the cylinders we 
had seen. Just as we got there, there was a sudden blast 
of air, the trap door at the top opened, and out came a load 
of sand. We climbed Into the lock and the lock-tender 
closed the upper door. The lock was a large chamber 
about six feet In diameter, lighted by an electric bulb. At 
the bottom there was a trap door. Mr. Squires warned 
us against standing on it. The lock-tender turned a valve 
and let the compressed air rush Into our chamber with a 
loud hissing noise. The noise was so deafening we couldn't 



40 



With the Men Who Do Things. 





\ 


Bft^ 


--^i.^ 




€^^'1 




1 ^'i 






Wi 


i 


RON 




l^^"ir^'1 


-"^ 


ft ! 1 






^ 


^ 
" -^^ 



talk, but Mr. Squires mo- 
tioned to us to follow his ex- 
ample of taking in deep 
breaths and blowing with 
nose and mouth tightly shut. 
I felt a little queer as 
the pressure 
came on, 
but was 



'ifi^^ifw 



FIG. 2. PASSING A BUCKET THROUGH THE AIRLOCK. 
BEHIND THE LATTICE IS THE WORKMEN'S LADDER. 



'''*^*' in no dis- 
tress. I 
looked at 
Bill and 
couldn't help 

laughing. He was following directions so conscientiously, 
taking in copious breaths and blowing until his cheeks 
were distended like balloons. 

Suddenly the trap door below us dropped open with a 

clang that echoed and 
re-echoed down the 
yawning well which 
seemed to run to the 
very bowels of the 
earth. The well was 
pear-shaped, with a 
lattice partition divid- 

FIG. 2- THE WORKING CHAMBER OF A ing It intO tWO shaft- 

CONCRETE CAISSON HAS A . , ,, 

STEPPED ROOF. ^"gs, thc Smaller one 




A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 41 

for the workmen and the other for the sand bucket. The 
trap door opened into a chamber with a narrow ledge and 
we had to climb down into it and then over to workmen's 
shafting. Then Mr. Squires pulled a whistle cord, in re- 
sponse to which the lock-tender swung the bottom door 
shut. 

A ladder led down the workmen's shaft, which was 
lighted with a few electric lamps. We could see the shaft 
tapering with the perspective until it formed but a tiny 
hole where it passed into the working chamber, a hundred 
feet below us. In the murky darkness we could barely make 
out the forms of men In the chamber, who looked like 
gnomes in an elfin world. We had been transferred into 
a real live chapter of the Arabian Nights. 

I tried to speak to Bill, but my voice sounded so high and 
nasal that I could scarcely tell what I was saying. Mr. 
Squires had already started down the ladder and we scram- 
bled after him. It was a long tedious descent and I won- 
dered how we should ever get up again. Somehow I felt 
a peculiar exhilaration. It seemed easier to do things In 
that atmosphere. 

When at last we reached the bottom of the shafting we 
wriggled down a rope ladder to the ground. The working 
chamber was rectangular, measuring about 10 by 15 feet; 
five sand hogs were at work. They had dug a wide hole 
In the sand at the center of the chamber and werei extending 
It toward the sides. Mr. Squires explained how they would 
dig to the edge of the chamber, undermining the edges of 



42 



With the Men Who Do Things. 




i^^-g-i. 



FIG. 4. WORKING CHAMBER OF A 
WOODEN CASING. 



the caisson, if necessary, so that they would sink into the 
ground. The deck, a foot or so above our heads, was made 
of heavy timbers, and supported a concrete pier that ex- 
tended in a soHd mass 80 feet above us. The shaft was 
getting so deep that the weight of the concrete was no 

longer enough to force 
f It down, and tons of 
pig iron were loaded 
on top to overcome 
the friction of the 
earth on all sides of 
the caisson. 

"Now-a-days," said 
Mr, Squires, "caissons 
for deep building 
foundations are nearly always made of steel or con- 
crete. We happen to be using wooden caissons here because 
the contract for this job was not let until the last moment. 
The wreckers had already removed the old building that 
stood on this property and we had to start operations at 
once. There was no time to build concrete caissons or wait 
for steel ones from the mill. It doesn't take long to build 
a timber caisson and lumber is always at hand." 

It was damp in the chamber and water dripped from the 
ceiling, but the sand floor was quite dry. The air forced 
all the water out of the sand. It was hot in there, too. Mr. 
Squires explained that compressing the air heated it 
and if they did not use a special cooling system the 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 43 

temperature in the working chamber would be simply 
unbearable. 

My! how those men worked. "You see they are taking 
in such a lot of oxygen at each breath," explained Mr. 
Squires. "Take them out in the open and they are too lazy 
to do a thing. 'Once a sand hog, always a sand hog' the 
saying goes. They are simply unfit for work unless stim- 
ulated with oxygen. They can only work two hours at a 
time in this pressure. It is dangerous for them to be in 
any longer." 

Mr. Squires turned on his heel and started whistling. 
As if of one mind. Bill and I puckered our mouths for a 
whistle, but the sound failed to come! In alarm we tried 
again, and yet again, but without avail. Thoroughly fright- 
ened we ran after Mr. Squires and told him that we had 
symptoms of paralysis; we couldn't whistle. 

"Try harder," he urged. "Sometimes if you put forth 
a little effort the symptoms disappear." We blew until we 
were red in the face. He looked genuinely concerned and, 
calling to one of the men, said: "Here, Pat; take these 
two boys to the doctor at once and tell him they can't 
whistle." 

Pat grinned from ear to ear as we made for the ladder 
and began climbing like mad. I thought we should never 
reach the lock. A hundred feet up was three times as 
much as a hundred feet down. Try running up to the ninth 
floor of a building and then imagine how much harder it 
would be to make that same assent up a vertical ladder. 



44 With the Men Who Do Things. 

What if the paralysis spread to our arms and legs before we 
got to the top. We were pretty well fagged before we 
reached the lock, and stood on the narrow ledge of the 
chamber, but the rich oxygen we took in with every breath 
sustained us wonderfully. Pat was not far behind us. He 
shouted to us to get down out of the way of the trap door, 
then he gave the signal and presently the door fell open. 

We dragged ourselves into the lock and the door closed 
behind us. Then we waited an interminable time for the 
compressed air to be let out. The chamber filled with fog 
as the pressure was reduced and after a time the upper 
door clanged open and we jumped out into the sunshine. 

A shift of sand hogs gathered around the door of the 
doctor's shack as we were ushered in. 

"Docther," said Pat, "these bhoys is afflicted with serious 
symptims. Their whistlin' orgins is paralyzed." 

"Most distressing, most distressing," replied the doctor. 
"You will have to get them a tin whistle, Pat." The guffaws 
of laughter that greeted this prescription were disconcerting, 
to say the least. We were completely taken in. How should 
we know that it is very difficult to whistle in air as 
dense as that in a caisson, and that only by considerable prac- 
tice can one acquire the art of making "lip music" under 
pressure. However, there was nothing to do but to laugh 
with the rest and make the best of the joke. The doctor 
made us stay in his office for a half hour or so, so as to keep 
us from becoming chilled and made up for the prank he had 
played upon us by recounting some very curious adventures 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 



45 



he had had. Presently Mr. Squires came In and we had 
to go over the whole story again. 

"It was one on us, all right," said Bill with a forced 
laugh, "but you sent us out before we had seen half there 
was to see." 




FIG. 5. SUCCESSIVE STEPS IN SINKING A CAISSON. 

Starting at the left the caisson is sunk from ist position to 2nd position. Then the 
air lock is removed and the caisson is built up as shown in 3rd position, after which it is 
sunk again to 4th position. Thus the work continues, the caisson being alternately ex- 
tended and sunk, until rock is reached, when the working chamber and the shaft are com- 
pletely filled with concrete as indicated in the last view of the series. 



46 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"What is that you wish to know?" 

"I'd like to know what you do when the caisson is sunk all 
the way down to rock?" 

"We blast out a good footing if the rock it tilted." 

"What! You blast rock down in that small chamber!" 

"Oh, yes, the sand hogs all get out of the chamber when 
the charge is set off. We have trap doors at the bottom of 
the shaft. The men all climb into the shafting and pull up 
the trap door, then the gang boss sets off the charges with 
electricity." 

Mr. Squires pointed to a scar on his forehead. "You 
see that? I got that when I was a young lad, before elec- 
tricity was used for touching off dynamite. I was the gang 
boss and had set the dynamite in the holes, fixed my fuses 
and lighted them; then I ran up the ladder to the shafting. 
One of the fuses must have been extra short; before I could 
close the door the charge exploded. The detonation was 
terrific. Rocks were hurled in all directions. One was 
thrown directly upward; it struck my forehead and tore a 
big gash in my scalp. Narrow escape, eh?" 

"I should say so. But after you have finished blasting 
what then?" 

"Oh, then we just fill in with concrete. The concrete is 
laid round the cutting edges first. The filling then proceeds 
toward the center. Then we work up the shafting, filling up 
the hole behind us until the entire pier is built up solid." 

"But do you leave the shell of the caisson in the ground?" 

"Certainly. Shaftings are sometimes made collapsible 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 47 

so that they can be taken out. The one you were in is Hke 
that. What next?" asked Mr. Squires. 

"I can't think of anything more; can you, Jim?" 
"No, not without going in again," I replied. 
"You can go down with Danny Roach in one of the nar- 
row cofferdam caissons, if you Hke," he answered. "We 
find it necessary to build a solid wall all the way down to 
rock on two sides of the building, because we expect to have 
a pretty deep cellar and the adjacent buildings were built on 
floating foundations. Not many years ago foundations used 
to be made that way. Piles were driven into the mud and 
sand as close to one another as possible and then upon them 
was built a grillage of iron rails. Upon this grillage the 
columns of the building were supported. That form of 
foundation is pretty good until some one digs a deep hole 
near by, then the quicksand oozes into this hole under the 
weight' of the building and the building settles badly, some- 
times dangerously. In Chicago most of the buildings are 
supported on floating foundations. There is a top layer of 
thick clay underlying the city which provides a fairly good 
support, but some large Chicago buildings are constantly 
sinking. For this reason scores of hydraulic jacks are placed 
under the columns and now and then the building is jacked 
up to its original level. We have to run a wall all around 
our foundations here to keep the quicksand out of our sub- 
cellar. But run along with Danny Roach. He'll explain the 
whole thing to you. He knows more about real caisson 
work than any other man alive." 



48 With the Men Who Do Things. 

Danny Roach, a big broad Irishman, who looked in at 
the doorway just at that opportune moment, seemed only too 
glad to show us around. 

The caisson we entered was only 5 feet wide by 20 feet 
long. A group of sand hogs were digging away the sand. 
It seemed peculiarly sticky material. Our feet sank into it 
as if it were soft mud, and yet apparently it was dry when 
we picked up a handful. 

"Tricherous stuff thot," said Danny Roach, "If there 
wuz no pressure on It It wad be the wurst koind of quick- 
sand. 

There was a man In the chamber puttying leaks In the 
caisson, close to the deck, with clay and oakum. He carried 
what I thought was a torch, but it proved to be only a com- 
mon wax candle. The rich oxygen in the caisson drew out 
the flame to a length of four or five inches. It was wonder- 
ful how things burned In that atmosphere. 

"Hey! luk out there," called out Danny Roach. "Kape 
that candle away from thim timbers or yez'U have thim 
afoire." 

"Could you really set that damp wood afire?" asked Bill. 

"Sure, if there was a laik the outpourin' air wud suck 
the flame through the hole and we wud have the worst koind 
of a folre. Luk out, ye blam' fool!" yelled Danny Roach. 
The man stumbled, clutched at something to save himself ' 
from falling, and, as luck would have it, tore down the elec- 
tric light wires, broke the circuit and Instantly we were In 
darkness. Even his candle was extinguished, for he fell 




FIRE IN THE CAISSON. "HE REACHED FOR THE SIGNAL ROPE." — See page 50. 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 49 

upon it and snuffed out the blaze. The only light was a 
brilliantly glowing ember in Danny Roach's pipe. 

Once, when I was a child, I read of a young chap who 
crawled into a hollow log after a rabbit and was trapped in 
there by the inwardly pointing splinters. The horror of 
that imprisonment which lasted until the next day when the 
log had to be chopped open, made a deep impression on 
me. I , didn't get over It for weeks, and now that same 
feeling of horror seized me. It was all I could do to keep 
from venting my panic In a yell. I don't know about Bill, 
but I venture he was thinking about the blessed sunshine just 
then. Presently some one scratched a match; it blazed up 
brilliantly. A candle was lighted and the match was tossed 
carelessly aside. Almost immediately there was a flare of 
light like the flash of gunpowder. 

"The oakum 1" cried Danny Roach. 

There was a big pile of it in the center of the working 
chamber. It burned fiercely and the heat was intense. We 
dropped flat upon the sticky sand to keep the flaming stuff 
from blistering our faces. It was evident that the deck 
would be ablaze In another instant If something were not 
done to quench the fire, and if the deck gave away might 
not the mass of concrete above crush through and mash us 
as if we were so many flies? But the chances were we 
would be burned to death before that happened. All this 
went through my mind like a flash. 

In the meantime, Danny Roach had taken In the situa- 
tion. There was a bucket nearly filled with sand, standing 



50 With the Men Who Do Things. 

beside the burning oakum and almost enveloped in the 
flames. He reached for the signal rope, gave a signal, in 
response to which the bucket was lifted three feet off tKe 
ground, then rushing through the flames he kicked the trip 
of the bucket. A ton of sand poured out over the blazing 
oakum and smothered the fire. Danny Roach's clothes were 
afire and he rolled around on the ground trying to quench 
the flames. It was with difficulty that we extinguished the 
blaze, and poor Danny was very painfully burned. He was 
placed as tenderly a possible in the sand bucket and with 
the gang boss attending him was hauled up to the surface. 

The rest of us climbed up the shafting, which was 
filled so full of smoke that we could scarcely breathe. We 
came so near smothering in the lock that we signalled 
to the lock-tender to let the air out as fast as he could. 
I tell you what we were glad to get out of that stifling 
atmosphere. 

Poor Danny Roach had done his duty so quickly that I 
scarcely realized what a' hero he was. The doctor was doing 
his best to relieve the man's suffering until the ambulance 
arrived. It seemed as if hours had elapsed before it finally 
did come and we saw our hero carried out to it on a 
stretcher. A big crowd had collected by this time and the 
sidewalk was blocked with people. As we stood gazing a 
young man stepped up and asked us if we knew anything 
about the accident. 

"Why, we were down there in the caisson and saw it all." 

"Say, you're just the boys I want to see," he said. "Come 



A Hundred Feet Below Broadway. 51 

this way. I am Mr. Thomas Graham Watson, journalist of 
the Evening Sphere." 

He led the way to a saloon, but observing our hesitancy, 
took us across the street to a quick lunch restaurant where 
we told him our story between bites and gulps; for we were 
very hungry. He was a master quizzer and before he was 
through with us he had drawn from us a complete account 
of our experiences under ground and all about the thousand 
dollars Uncle Ed had put up for our summer's outing. 

"Gee! what luck," he exclaimed. "I can put you on to 
a lot of engineering stunts. Where do you live ?" We gave 
him our address. "Say, I shall be around to see you to-night. 
I must hustle off with my story for the next edition." 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE "BENDS." 

"I have a queer pain in my back, Jim. It has been grow- 
ing steadily worse for the past half hour." 

I had noticed Bill twitching nervously for some time. 

"Have you it, too?" I asked. "I have felt some twinges 
In my shoulders and I imagine it's the caisson disease." 

"But, it's an hour and a half since we came out of the 
caisson," said Bill. 

"They say it takes anywhere from half an hour to two 
hours for the 'bends' to come on," I answered, "and as 
near as I can make out this must be it. You'd better hurry 
back to the doctor's at once." 

"Not on your life. Not unless I'm sure we have it. I 
won't go there to be laughed at again. If it doesn't get 
any worse than this I can stand it." 

"I ache as if I'd been pounded." 

"Same here, my whole body aches like a stiff neck, and 
I have shooting pains in every joint." 

"Oh, let's stop, talking about it. I believe it mlakes the^ 
ache worse." 

We tried to divert ourselves for the next hour, but oui 
discomfort was not so easily set aside. I never experienced 
anything so persistent. No matter how I twisted or turnedjj 



'I 



The ''Bends.'' 53 

the ache was still there. It seemed as if something were 
gnawing at my shoulder blades, and nothing would make it 
stop. Apparently, Bill had a more serious case. He was 
soon doubled up with a crampy pain, and his right leg 
was drawn up so that he could not walk. He was fairly 
writhing in agony before we finally decided to go to the 
doctor. Then he was in such a state that we had to take 
a taxicab. 

"What's this, what's this," exclaimed the doctor, as I 
dragged Bill into his office, limping and clinging to me for 
support. 

"If this isn't the caisson disease," moaned Bill, "it's some- 
thing worse." 

"My gracious," said the doctor, "you should have been 
here an hour ago." 

"Are we too late?" we cried in alarm. "Is It past cure?" 

"Don't worry about It. It is only the 'bends.' It will 
wear off In a week or two." 

"A week or two! And must we suffer like this for two 
weeks steady? Is there no relief?" 

"I can stop the pains at once," he answered, "but I 
won't guarantee a permanent cure. Get into this lock." 

He lead the way to a "hospital lock." The doctor dragged 
Bill in and laid him on a low couch at one side of the 
tank, while I crawled In and dropped down on the couch 
at the opposite side. 

"I shall have to stay In with you myself," he said, "the 
nurse Is out just now." 



54 With the Men Who Do Things. 

The door was slammed shut and presently I heard the 
hiss of Inrushing air. As the pressure increased, the pains 
in my bones started to subside. Bill, too, stopped writh- 
ing and soon grew quite chipper. 

"Bully for you, doctor," he cried, "you have cured us, 
all right. You can let us off now." 

"Hold on, young man. You will have to stay here an 
hour or two and then it will take at least an hour more to 
let the air out, because the pressure is up to thirty-seven 
pounds. You had this attack because the men let you out 
of the air lock too' fast. I can't stay in here with you 
any longer. If you want to communicate with me, use this 
telephone." 

Now that the pains no longer distracted me, my eyes 
began to take in our surroundings. We were in a big steel 
tank. It must have been at least six feet in diameter and 
from twelve to fifteen feet long. It was divided into two 
chambers by a central diaphragm or partition with a door 
in it. We were in the innermost chamber, and the doctor 
now stepped through the doorway, slamming the door be- 
hind him. He didn't lock the door or even latch It, for I 
could see that it was very slightly ajar. At each end of the 
tank there was a little round glass-covered port-hole and 
there was also one In the diaphragm. I arose from the 
couch and looked through the port-hole to see what the 
doctor was doing. He went over to the far end of the 
chamber and turned a hand wheel. The air began tb 
escape with a hiss and the door in the diaphragm closed 



The "Bends.'' 55 

tightly, pressed by the denser air in our chamber. The 
doctor must have spent ten or fifteen minutes in the 
chamber. Then, as the air stopped hissing, he pulled open 
the outer door and stepped out of the lock. 

We felt perfectly normal now, and there seemed to be 
no reason why we should stay in that dungeon so long. We 
spent a very long half hour talking over our experiences. 
Then we began to grow fidgety. I had to listen to my 
watch to be sure that it was running. Before the hour was 
up, we were fussing and fuming over our imprisonment. 
Finally, I picked up the telephone and called up the doctor, 
but received no answer. After persistently ringing for about 
five minutes, some one said "Hello." 

"Who are you, the doctor?" I called. 

"No, this is John Gray, the nurse." 

"Where is the doctor?" 

"Gone to supper. He left word not to let you out until 
he returned." 

"When is he coming back?" 

"In about half an hour, I guess. He just left five 
minutes ago." 

"Bill, that's another of his jokes, I suppose," I cried, 
angrily. "I say, Mr. Gray, won't you let us out?" 

*'Can't do it. Doctor's orders, you know." 

"But he is only playing a joVe on us. Won't you let 
us out," I pleaded. 

But the m'an at the other end of the wire rung off, and 
our repeated calls failed to reach him. 



56 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"Now, we're In a pickle," exclaimed Bill, "I suppose there 
is nothing for us to do but wait. I wish we could get out, 
though, somehow. We could turn the laugh on him. What 
did the doctor do when he went out? Did you see?" 

"He went into the next compartment and turned that valve 
over there." 

Bill went to the partition and tried the door. 

"Oh, you can't budge that," I said. 

"Did he lock it?" 

"No, It's just the air pressure. He let the pressure out 
of the other compartment. But, say, there's a valve In 
here." 

"Yes," answered Bill, "and here's another one." 

"I suppose one is to let the air out and the other to let 
it in, but how are we to know which is which?" I queried. 
"We may let in more pressure than we can stand." 

"Well, I'm going to try this one anyhow." Bill gave 
one of the valves a cautious turn. 

"Hold on there, shut it off quick," I cried. "It must be 
the wrong one because it isn't hissing. The one the doctor 
worked hissed as soon as he turned it." 

"Here goes the other one, then." But there was no his- 
sing that time either. 

"Now, that's funny. Isn't it? I don't beheve either one 
of them is working," said Bill, "and I don't see why the 
air shouldn't hiss just as much coming in as going out." 

"I bet the doctor disconnected those valves on purpose." 

"Our only hope of escape, then. Is to call for help." 



The ''Bends.'' 57 

Bill peered out of the port hole, but no one was In sight. 
Then he began kicking on the steel walls with his heels. 
Presently our chamber was darkened by a face at the port 
hole. It was Pat, and when he saw us he laughed up- 
roariously. We shouted to him to let us out, but he only 
laughed the louder and called some other sand hogs who 
peered in at us and evidently made all manner of jokes at our 
expense, although we could not hear them. 

We were getting into a frenzy of excitement and anger 
when the doctor returned from supper and called us up 
on the telephone. 

"Hello, boys. How are you? Ready to come out, now?" 

"Look here, doctor." Bill was fairly boiling over with 
rage. "This has gone about far enough. It Isn't fair to 
treat us like this. Let us out at once, will you?" 

"Don't get so excited," said the doctor calmly, "the pres- 
sure has been running out for the last five minutes. This 
Is no joke. I told you, when you went In, that the longer 
you stayed In the better. Now, just keep quiet. It will take 
an hour to let all the pressure out. I'm) not joking this 
time." 

"An hour?" 

"Yes." 

"Not a whole hour?" 

"Well, fifty-five minutes, if you wish. Now, do calm 
yourselves. It won't do you any good to worry. I'll come 
In and visit you if you promise to be patient." 

The next minute the doctor stepped Into the adjoining 



58 With the Meji Who Do Things. 

compartment, and then we heard the hiss of air. Before 
very long the door in the diaphragm swung open, and we 
pushed through the doorway Into the outer compartment. 
The doctor entertained us by telling us all about the caisson 
disease and just what caused It. He explained how the 
oxygen in the compressed air was good for the blood, but 
the nitrogen forced into the blood would collect there in 
bubbles. He told us how he had performed an autopsy 
on a man who had died of the caisson disease, and found 
his blood frothy with nitrogen bubbles. With the doctor 
to entertain us the time passed very quickly. The pres- 
sure in the lock was being reduced so gradually that we 
could not detect it. Almost before we knew it, the hour 
had passed, and the doctor opened the door and let us out. 

"My, Tm as hungry as a bear," exclaimed Bill, "it's after 
seven o'clock. Come on, Jim, let's find a restaurant, 
quick." 

"You may have another attack," called the doctor after 
us. "If so, don't fall to come back the instant you feel 
the slightest twinge of the bends," 

In the evening Mr. Watson dropped in with a copy of the 
Evening Sphere, and proudly showed us a three-column 
header on the fire in the caisson. A vivid picture he made 
of It, with Danny Roach featured as a lowly sand hog, 
rough, uncultured, whom no one would suspect of heroism ; 
with no thought for his own safety, he had rushed into the 
fire, etc., etc. Some of his statements were ridiculously in- 
correct. Yet the story was well told and full of exciting 



The ''Bends.'' 59 

interest. Worst of all he had dragged us into it. We were 
two youthful students of engineering, who chanced to be in 
the caisson when the accident had occurred. We had helped 
to calm the excited sandhogs, and it was really our pres- 
ence of mind that had saved all from destruction, for it 
was upon our suggestion that Danny Roach had acted. Then 
followed our own "modest" story of the accident. 

"What does this mean," I questioned him. "We didn't 
tell any such story." 

"That's all right, boys," replied Mr. Watson. "That's 
all right. You will thank me for that story yet. Why, it 
will give you publicity and just the prominence you need 
to introduce you to engineering enterprises that would other- 
wise be barred to you. I am going to take you up to the 
office to meet the City Editor and the 'Old Man' to-morrow 
morning. I tell you your name is made already. You'll 
be famous. The whole city will be talking about you." 

"We are not here looking for fame," put in Bill. 

"I understand, I understand," replied Mr. Watson, "but 
surely you don't mind having a little publicity if it is going 
to help you in your studies. Now listen. You got into the 
Manhattan Syndicate Building on a mere chance, and you 
got into the caisson just because you happened to be passed 
along to a friend, but such luck can't go on forever. You'll 
have to get permits from headquarters and you'll have to 
meet prominent engineers, and you won't even get past the 
office boy unless you make a name for yourselves. Now that 
is where the Sphere is going to help you. Lucky for you 



6o With the Men Who Do Things. 

times are rather quiet now, and we can well afford to fea- 
ture you. You might even get a commission from the 
Sphere to go as reporters in places to which you could not 
gain access otherwise. I tell you," continued Mr. Watson, 
looking very Important, indeed, "the power of the press is 
well nigh unlimited." 

It struck me that maybe I could make something by writ- 
ing our experiences for the Sphere, which would go to- 
wards paying my expenses. It would make me feel much 
more independent and under less obligation to Bill if I 
could at least pay part of my board. 

"Would we get paid for any stories we supplied," I 
queried. 

"Oh, you mercenary creature," laughed Mr. Watson, 
"like all the rest, your quest Is not pure science, but pure 
gold. Oh, I understand, I understand," he Interrupted, as 
we both protested. "The 'Old Man' will pay you for any- 
thing you turn In. He Is generous enough to outsiders, but 
blame stingy with us. If I don't get a raise for my work 
to-day, I'm going over to the Evening Star." 

"But Danny Roach," I said, breaking off abruptly, "what 
will he think of us after he reads that story in the paper?" 

"You'll have to make it right with him. Blame It all on 
me. I don't care. You'll find him in the Hudson Hospital, 
doing nicely. I was there to see him this afternoon. He'll 
be mighty glad to have you call. Now tell me all about 
the bends, If I am to be your press agent." 

"Bill can tell you more about that than I can." 



The "Bend:>r 6i 

"If you are going to say anything more about us," said 
Bill, "for Heaven's sake let us read your copy and see that 
you have things straight." 

When he had pumped us dry on the subject of the caisson 
disease, Mr. Watson took his leave, after exacting a promise 
from us to meet him on the following morning at the office 
of the Sphere. 

"Oh, by the way," said Mr. Watson as he was leaving, 
"what's the next engineering stunt on your program?" 

"We haven't any program," said Bill. 

"As long as you have been Initiated Into caisson work, 
you might just as well go down under pressure In one of 
the tunnels they are putting under the river." 

"Oh, yes, we Intended to take that In, too," I said, "but I 
for one am not hankering after any more caisson pains." 

That night was the longest In my whole experience. The 
pains in my shoulders, which had almost disappeared during 
the early evening, came back again and although they were 
not quite so severe as they had been in the afternoon, they 
were very distressing. Nothing would ease them. I tossed 
about, longing for morning to come. Sleep was absolutely 
out of the question. The racket of the city was maddening. 
The banging of trolleys, the roar of elevated trains and the 
clatter of horses' hoofs on the pavement merely lent variety 
to the incessant hum of city noises. I was even exasperated 
at Bill for falling asleep. A troubled sleep he was having, 
but at least he was oblivious to the agony of the bends. 
A clock In a neighboring church steeple slowly tolled the 



62 With the Men Who Do Things. 

hour of midnight. I tried to busy my mind so as to lose 
sight of my ailments. I counted the seconds until the clock 
should strike the next hour. Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty- 
nine, sixty — thank goodness, one minute less before dawn. 
Again and again I counted sixty; twenty-eight times, twenty- 
nine times, thirty times. Why didn't the clock strike half 
past. I must have been counting too fast. I started in 
again; ten, fifteen, twenty times. What was the matter with 
the old clock, anyway? May be it did strike when that 
last train went by. Certainly, that must have been it. I 
got up and lit a match. Hang it all, the clock hands pointed 
to only twenty-seven minutes past twelve. I flung myself 
back on the bed and waited hours for those three minutes 
to pass. So I went through most of the night, listening for 
the strokes of that lazy old church clock. Now and then 
I would doze, only to be awakened by a kick from my 
restless comrade. 



CHAPTER VIII. 
REPORTERS FOR THE SPHERE. 

When the first feeble ray of sunshine found its way 
through our window and apprised me of the beginning of a 
new day, I dragged Bill out of bed, although he protested 
vigorously. 

"Come, you've got to get up. I can't stand this any 
longer. I am going down to the hospital lock." 

"But it isn't five o'clock yet." 

"Can't help it. I will have to find some one. These 
pains are too much for me. Don't you feel anything?" 

"Oh, nothing very much." 

When we finally reached the hospital lock the doctor was 
not anywhere around, but a professional nurse put us 
through the treatment. Bill did not really need it, but he 
went in to keep me company. It was eight o'clock when we 
emerged from the compressed air cure, so we hung around 
for awhile before visiting the office of the Evening Sphere. 
The Sphere building stood in the heart of the former news- 
paper district and because of its conservative management 
and labor troubles of former years, squatted, a diminutive 
four-story brick landmark, among its towering associates. 

Entering the front door of the general offices Bill lead the 
.way and asked for the Evening Sphere City Room. 

63 



64 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"Upstairs," a clerical person behind a dilapidated counter 
tersely directed us. 

A steep flight of narrow stairs disappeared into the ceil- 
ing on our left and we mounted them. The next floor, 
which was necessarily "upstairs" to us according to our 
clerical director's instruction, turned out to be a combina- 
tion of several departments of the Sphere Publishing Com- 
pany, the news bureau occupying most of the space and chat- 
tering with the staccato snapping of many telegraph instru- 
ments. 

"This is it," Bill decided uncertainly and turned the knob 
of a much scarred door. 

It wasn't. We found ourselves in a big room filled with 
long narrow tables cluttered with a variety of typewriters 
and telegraph instruments and men who were pounding away 
at rile machines as if their very lives depended on it. 

"Well?" a cadaverous Individual asked our business. 

"We are looking for Mr. Thomas Graham Watson," I 
explained. 

"Not here," he snapped, and started to turn away. 

"Yes he Is," Bill stopped him pugnaciously. "He'c on the 
staff." 

"Morning or evening?" 

"Evening." 

'TJpstalrs," was the satisfaction we got as he walked off 
bawling for "Wichita Kansas flimsy." 

We left the room and climbed another set of steep and 
narrow steps to the floor above. A clouded glass door with 



Reporters for The Sphere. 65 

the words "The Sphere" printed rather poorly upon it, 
made us decided that we had at last reached our destination 
and we walked in. The very large room we entered was 
filled with old and time worn desks and there wasn't a man 
in the place. We looked blankly at each other. 

'T wonder—" 

What Bill wondered he did not have an opportunity to 
say, as a small boy came charging around the end of a paper 
filled table and ran full tilt into us. He was apologizing as 
he started away from us when Bill caught hold of him. 

"Where's the Evening Sphere City Room?" he demanded 
not too gently. 

"One flight up." 

And following the boy's pointed finger we saw a metal 
door with "Evening Sphere'^ printed upon it. Bill, with a 
good deal of impatience, yanked it open and lead the way 
up a circular iron stairway which turned two or three times 
before we reached the next floor. 

There everything seemed confusion. Half-dressed grease- 
smeared men flashed by, pushing make-up tables on wheels, 
and the crash of typesetting machines almost drove our 
thoughts from our minds. An iron wire lattice work parti- 
tion offered us the haven of safety from the clanking rush 
of form tables and the stifling heat of matrix presses, and 
we hurried across to the inclosure. 

Thirty or forty desks crowded as close together as they 
could be to allow for the admission of chairs between them^ 
filled the floor space, and sitting at intervals in front of them 



66 With the Men Who Do Things. 

were the men who helped to make the Sphere the leading 
evening paper that it was. In reality they were not more 
than boys, although we saw an occasional gray head at one 
or two of the more prominent desks. Pipes and tobacco 
were in evidence and cigarettes and cigars added to the blue 
haze of the pressroom which permeated the atmosphere of 
the place. 

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" asked a bald old 
man sitting at a rolltop desk near the gap in the lattice work. 

"We were to meet Mr. Thomas Graham Watson here," 
I answered. 

"Boy," the elderly person yelled loudly, and followed it 
with a shrill whistle which brought half a dozen variously 
daubed and dressed youngsters tumbling from different 
crevasses in the room. 

"Here you!" he shouted. "Tell Mr. Watson that there 
are two gentlemen to see him." 

The boy threaded his way between the desks in a series 
of spasmodic twists and turns and in a moment Watson 
confronted us. 

"Just a minute, fellows," he apologized. "I'm writing a 
three-alarm fire for the first edition and will see you soon. 
Sit down." 

We would have liked to, but there wasn't a chair in sight. 
So we stood and watched the office force. 

There was something tense in the feeling of the place. 
The men who crouched over their typewriters were com- 
pletely absorbed In their tasks, while to add a touch of in- 



Reporters for The Sphere. 67 

congruity to the scene two well-dressed young fellows were 
tossing a wad of paper back and forth, and a third stood 
between them trying to hit it with a ruler as it passed him. 
Bill and I were becoming interested in the third man's 
efforts when the group were galvanized into action. 

"Smith," barked a gray-haired man who sat inside a hol- 
lowed out square table, "Bert, Crawley." 

The impromptu ball game turned into a quick rush for 
the man who had called, each of the three participants pick- 
ing up a hat and a coat on his way to the desk. 

The gray-haired man said something, and the three left 
the office at a brisk pace just as Watson came up. 

"Let her go," bellowed a stentorian voice and immediately 
the writers at their machines straightened up and the tensity 
of a moment before was gone. 

"Form's up," explained our journalistic friend. "Now 
ril introduce you to the bunch while we wait for 'Willy'. 

"The bunch" was a splendid set of young men who did 
their best to interest us while we waited for 'Willy.' Their 
intuition was amazing and before Bill and I realized it they 
had all of the information about our vacation plans and our 
hoping to write for the Sphere out of us, although just how 
it was effected neither of us could have said. 

"Willy's late to-day," some one suggested, and In answer 
to our question Watson laughingly explained. "He's our 
City Editor, William Waldron Wallace Is his full name, 
but just among ourselves we use the diminutive, as a term 
of endearment. Some facetious young chaps, playing upon 



68 With the Men Who Do Things. 

his initials, call him 'Triple-Double-You'. But life is too 
short for a name like that." 

Mr. Wallace, who entered just then, was an undersized, 
weazened little man, who chewed nervously at a half-burned 
cigar. He walked quickly into his office with a curt 
"Mornin' " to us, and must have plunged Instantly into his 
work, for within two minutes he had three or four messen- 
ger boys skurrying back and forth. Three reporters were 
called in and sent off on various commissions, before Mr. 
Watson had a chance to usher us in. Our Interview was 
very hasty and not" very satisfactory, I thought. I was 
quite awed and noticed that even Mr. Watson was exceed- 
ingly respectful. The City Editor looked pleasant enough, 
but he had no time to waste. After learning who we were, 
he said he was glad to know us and hoped we would find our 
summer full of interesting adventure. Then he turned 
abruptly to his work, jabbed a stub pen into a pot ol Ink and 
began writing furiously. We withdrew hastily. 

"That is the first step In the red-tape proceedings we have 
to go through. I want you to meet the 'old man,' but 
etiquette demands that you be introduced first to 'Willy,' the 
City Editor, then to 'Charlie,' the Assistant Managing Edi- 
tor, before we dare see the Managing Editor himself. 

The Assistant Managing Editor was a large, pompous 
man, Inflated with his own importance, and so anxious to 
impress us that I welcomed the end of that Interview and 
sincerely dreaded the one yet to come with the "old man." 
The Managing Editor, however, was of a very different 



Reporters for The Sphere. 69 

type. He was so approachable and so sympathetic that he 
put us at our ease at once. He commended us highly on the 
way we were spending our vacation, and bade Mr. Watson 
keep track of us and help us. in any way he could. He also 
told him to write up our experiences for the Sphere. 

"Why couldn't we write our own experiences?" I asked. 

"Why, maybe you could," he said, looking rather sur- 
prised. "Try your hand at it, anyway, and we shall allow 
you our usual rate of $8 per column. Suppose you sit down 
now and write a thousand words on your experiences in the 
Manhattan Syndicate Building. You have an hour before 
the forms close for the next edition." 

"Only an hourl" I exclaimed. "Why, I couldn't possibly 
do it In that time." 

"Well, send it in to-morrow morning, then, and we'll see 
how you make out." 

Early the next morning we hurried down to the office 
of the Sphere, but, yielding to a spell of diffidence, we 
handed in our article over the counter, instead of taking it 
up ourselves to the Managing Editor. Then we hung 
around City Hall Park, went down to the Aquarium and 
wandered about the downtown streets, impatient for the 
morning to hurry by, so that we could see the first edition of 
the Evening Sphere. 

"Let's go down to the hospital, to see Danny Roach," 
said Bill. "We ought to take him something, though. What 
do you suppose we can give a man like that?" 

"Hanged if I know." 



70 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"If we took him a bunch of flowers, do you think he'd 
like them?" 

"I don't imagine he'd care much for flowers, but it won't 
do any harm to take them along. He can give them to 
the nurse if he doesn't like them." 

"We might take him something good to eat," said Bill. 

"Then we'd get into trouble with the doctors." 

"Suppose we ask Mr. Squires what he'd like?" 

We stopped in to see Mr. Squires on our way over to the 
hospital. 

He was leaning back in his chair reading a paper. Yes, 
it was Evening Sphere, "Home Edition." 

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Squires," Bill fairly snatched at 
the paper. "Is that to-day's Evening Sphere? May I look 
at it a moment?" 

"Well, I never!" ejaculated the astonished Mr. Squires. 
"Is that the way you treat your friends?" 

I had to apologize for Bill's rudeness and explain that 
we had written an article for that issue of the paper, and 
were anxious to see it in print. 

"It isn't in!" cried Bill, who had been running rapidly 
through the paper in the meantime. 

A wave of disappointment overwhelmed me. "Are you 
sure?" I gasped. 

"Look for yourself." 

I went carefully over every column, but our article was 
not there. What was the use of life. A whole day's work 
for naught. Hang the old Sphere anyway. 



Reporters for The Sphere. 71 

"You mustn't jump at conclusions," Mr. Squires tried to 
assure us. "Very likely it will come out to-morrow." 

"But the Managing Editor, himself, told us to write it 
and get it in in time for the first edition." 

"Well, why don't you go up and see about it then?" 

"No, I am not going to have him tell me to my face that 
the story was not good enough. What we came around to 
see you about was to suggest something that we could take 
to Danny Roach. We want to go around and see him in 
the hospital. Bill Is going to take him a bunch of flowers, 
but I can't for the life of me, think what to give him." 

"That's a poser, now," said Mr. Squires, scratching his 
head. "I have it. Take him a plug of tobacco." 

"lA plug of tobacco !" 

"Yes, that's just the thing! Poor old Danny must be 
about dead for a 'chaw' by this time." 

Mr. Squires was so enthused with the idea that he went 
across the street with us and picked out a plug of Danny's 
favorite brand. Then we went to a Greek florist and bought 
a nice bunch of roses. Thus equipped. Bill and I headed for 
the hospital. 

Poor Danny was almost overcome by his emotions when 
he saw us. He was so bandaged up that we didn't know him 
and had to have him pointed out to us. "Ach, me b'ys," he 
exclaimed, when he found we were really come to see him 
and not someone else In the ward. "Ye're the foinest bit 
av medicine Oi've had yit." He reached out a heavily 
bandaged hand and gave us each a hearty grip. "Niver a 



72 With the Men Who Do Things. 

soul has come near me these two bllssed days, excipt that 
raiporter feller. They lit him in, whin he s'id he was a 
personal fri'nd av moine, but whin he read me pwhat he'd 
put in the paiper, Oi caaled for hilp, and had him ejicted, 
the blackguard. He thought Oi'd be tickled because he 
made a haro out Iv me, but 01 saw through his thrlcks. He 
was jist thrying to make as long a shtory out of it as he cud, 
fur the money that was in it." 

"Yes," I said, "he put in a lot about us, too, that was 
all wrong, and what's more, he signed our names to it." 

"Oi'd have him up for forgery," exclaimed Danny in- 
dignantly. 

"H's not a bad sort of fellow, though," put in Bill. "He 
introduced us to the Editors of the Sphere, and the Manag- 
ing Editor asked us to write something for them now and 
then. Jim wrote a fine article yesterday on the Manhattan 
Syndicate Building, and there were no lies In that, I assure 
you. We'll send you a copy as soon as it is out." 

"If it ever does come out," I interjected. "They promised 
to put it in this afternoon's paper, but it isn't in yet. I 
guess it wasn't written well enough." 

"If yez can't write a bitter article than that Watson 
feller, yez can't write at all. Oi cud do as well meself." 

Danny Roach took a great interest in our first journalistic 
effort, and we had to tell him all about it. 

"That foire was nothing worth writin' about," said 
Danny. "Some day, whin something railly happens, Oi'U 
send for yez to write it up for the paipers." 



til 

• i 


~^HHb'' ' ' '^.^' I^^HHIk" 



CONCRETE BULKHEAD WITH THREE AIR-LOCKS. 




LOOKING INTO A TUNNEL AIR-LOCK. 




SETTING UP A SHIELD JUST BEFORE BREAKING OUT OF THE ROCK. 




THE ERECTOR CRANE WITH WHICH THE RING PLATES ARE SET IN PLACE. 



Reporters for The Sphere. 73 

All this time Bill was awkwardly handling the bunch of 
roses, not knowing just how Danny would take them. As 
a matter of fact, I don't think Danny really cared for them. 
It seemed entirely out of place for a big, gruff sand-hog to 
be lying on a clean white cot and have roses brought to him. 
But his warm Irish heart appreciated the thought that had 
prompted us to bring the flowers. It was not until we were 
leaving that I handed him the plug of tobacco. Danny was 
so astonished that he was struck speechless for the moment 
and that is saying a good deal for him. But as we moved 
off, he took a savage bite at the plug, which restored his 
power of speech, instanter, and he broke forth into such a 
string of blessings as I have never heard before. All the 
saints were called upon to protect us, at least, I think he 
must have gone through the whole canon of saints, because 
he named a full dozen, and was still going strong when we 
closed the door behind us. 

Our feeling of resentment at the Managing Editor of 
the Evening Sphere underwent a revolutionary change the 
next day when we found our story in the first edition of the 
paper. Several days later, when a check arrived, made out 
to my order, I was the proudest boy on earth. I felt that 
I was really contributing a share, small though it was, 
toward the expenses of the summer's outing. So I planned 
to write all I could for the Sphere. 



CHAPTER IX. 
SAND HOGS. 

One would suppose that after our experience In the 
caisson we would not care to venture again into an under- 
ground chamber. I believe the adventure whetted our 
appetites for further excitement, and we started the day by 
planning to investigate more underground work: 

"What I can't make out," said Bill, who was fussing 
with something at the wash-basin, "is how they keep the 
water out of those tunnels under the river." 

"I don't see anything so mysterious about that. They 
use compressed air to keep the water out, just as in a 
caisson." 

"Yes, I know, but it isn't as simple as all that. Now 
look at this," and he pushed a glass, mouth down, into 
the water. Although the glass was completely submerged, 
the water did not fill it because of the air trapped inside. 
The water rose to within an inch or so of the top. 

"That's just like a caisson," continued Bill; "the com- 
pressed air in the top keeps the water down, just as Mr. 
Squires explained. But now watch me turn the glass on the 
side." Just as he got the glass near the horizontal, the 
air went out with a big "gulp," and the glass filled with 
water. 

74 



Sand Hogs. 75 

"See that I Now how in the world do they keep the air 
in and the water out, with the end of the tunnel open so that 
the men can dig away the sand and mud ahead of the tube?" 

"That question is too much for me," I confessed. "We 
shall have to have a look at the work, and see for our- 
selves how it is done. I suppose you don't mind going 
down under pressure again?" 

"Mind that! Not a bit!" exclaimed Bill. "One little 
accident isn't going to scare m'e away." 

On our way down-town we stopped at the hospital to 
inquire about Danny Roach. Although we couldn't see him, 
we were assured that he was doing nicely, and would be fit for 
work again in a few days. 

When we got down to the tunnel-shaft, we encountered 
unexpected difficulties. The superintendent wouldn't even 
see us, and we were obliged to go away without a single 
glimpse inside the yard. The next day, however, we came 
back armed with a letter of introduction from Mr. Squires. 
This gave us an audience with Superintendent Brown. But 
that did not mean admission to the tunnel. 

"The rule is strict: 'no visitors allowed'," he said. "I 
wish for the sake of my friend Squires that I could let 
you in. But no one, under any pretext whatever, is al- 
lowed in that tunnel, except those actually engaged in the 
work down there." 

"Wouldn't the chief engineer give us a permit?" 

"No. Others have tried that, but it was no use." 

"Then there is absolutely no chance of getting In?" 



76 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"None that I know of,— unless," he suddenly added, with 
a laugh, "unless you would like to go in as 'sand-hogs.' Eh, 
what?" 

"Would we like it!" said Bill, his eyes sparkling. "Come 
on, Jim, it'll be a great experience." 

"Now, I warn you," said the superintendent, "this isn't 
going to be a lark! You will have to work hard, and I 
won't take you on unless you contract to work at least a 
week; if you shirk or fall down on the job, I will fire you 
on the spot without a cent of pay. Your wages will be two 
dollars a day because you are green hands, but if you stick to 
it you may get as much as four dollars a day after a few 
year's experience, the same as the rest. How is that for a 
glittering prospect — eh?" 

"I'm game if you are, Bill," I had visions of an ex- 
citing story for the Sphere and a check fully twice as big 
as the first one. 

"Report to the doctor, then, and let him look you over," 
said Mr. Brown. 

"We are safe on that score," I intermpted, "because we 
have just been down under pressure in a caisson." 

"Yes, but you must see our doctor, nevertheless. If he 
says you are O.K.," continued the superintendent, "you can 
report to Hughie Smith, the gang boss, at midnight. Be 
here in time to put on your working togs. We'll supply 
the boots. You'll have to go on at twelve o'clock sharp, 
and you work till eight." 

"Do you work here all night?" we asked in surprise. 



Sand Hogs. 77 

"Most assuredly we do!" he replied. "There Is no day 
down there in the tunnel; It Is just one long continuous 
night. You'd better run home now and go to bed, or you 
won't be fit to work to-night." 

It wasn't exactly what we had bargained for, working 
nights and sleeping during the day, but we thought we could 
stand It for a week. We found It very difficult to get to 
sleep early, and at 10.30 our alarm-clock awakened us after 
we had put In less than four hours of slumber. It was the 
hardest thing In the world to shake off our drowsiness, but 
the spirit of adventure sustained us, and kept us from 
backing out. We dressed hastily and had a hearty meal 
in a little restaurant around the corner, and at a quarter to 
twelve reported to Hughle Smith at the sand-hog house. 

It didn't take us long to put on working clothes and boots. 
There was something weird about the whole affair — the 
brilliant flaming arc lamps here and there casting jet black 
shadows around the yard; the clank and rattle of ma- 
chinery; the sound of escaping air; the buckets that came 
up out of the tunnel, and the swish of the stuff as it slid out 
into the big hoppers from which it was emptied into carts 
that hauled It off to fill some low spot in or near the great 
city. We didn't have much time to muse over what we 
saw: A whistle sounded, and we assembled at the mouth 
of the shaft with the other sand-hogs, where checks were 
handed out. We were no longer known by name, but 
merely by the numbers on the checks. 

The cage that rose suddenly out of the shaft discharged .1 



78 With the Men Who Do Things. 

gang of men, and we took their places. In a moment we 
were at the bottom of the shaft and stepped out into the 
tunnel, a huge iron cylinder seventeen feet In diameter. 
It was fairly well lighted with electric lamps, showing the 
cast iron plating with which it was sheathed. We fol- 
lowed the men down the tunnel to a sort of bulkhead built 
across the tube. In this bulkhead were the air-locks, two 
of them, with doors large enough to admit the trucks on 
which the mud and sand were carried out from the tunnel 
heading. The mten all crowded into one of the locks. It 
was a rather long," horizontal cylinder with seats on either 
side for us to occupy while the pneumatic pressure was 
turned on. Both doors of the locks were closed, and then 
the gang boss turned on the air gradually. I could feel the 
strain on my ear-drums as the air rushed In, although I held 
my nose and blew as hard as I could. When the air ceased 
hissing, we knew that the pressure In the lock was the 
same as that in the tunnel. The foreman then opened the 
door, and we all trooped out. We had to walk a couple of 
hundred feet before getting to the shield. The boss sta- 
tioned his men, and then turned to us. Bill had been eagerly 
waiting for a chance to ask questions. He was full of 
them, and now he started In; but the boss hushed him up 
at once. 

"Look here, we haven't time for any of that! This 
ain't no tea-party. You are here to work. Do you under- 
stand? Take that shovel there and get busy loading this 
truck. No loafing now!" 



Sand Hogs. 79 

Obediently we started work without further words, real- 
izing that we must depend on our eyes to answer our ques- 
tions. We saw that the tunnel shield was a sort of a drum- 
like affair with the ends open, but with a diaphragm divid- 
ing it in two in the center. There were a number of sliding 
doors in this diaphragm, through which the men could pass 
to the outside of the shield, to dig away the soil in front of 
the tunnel. We found a chance to step through the dia- 
phragm once and see that the front of it was divided into 
a number of pockets by plates that ran up and down and 
crosswise. The men worked in the shelter of these 
pockets, removing the soil in advance of the shield. Our 
job, however, was inside the shield, loading the trucks with 
the sand, or "muck," that was shoveled through the open- 
ings In thq diaphragm. The trucks, when filled, were hauled 
away by small electric locomotives, or "dinkies," as they 
were called. 

We worked hard, sustained by the rich atmosphere; but 
our muscles were not used to such labor, and before long 
we grew exceedingly tired. Interest in the work about us, 
however, helped to divert our attention from aches and 
pains. We observed that the shield was larger in diameter 
than the lining of the tunnel, and that it fitted over the end 
of the lining like a cap. We saw also how the shield was 
moved forward. A number of hydraulic jacks were placed 
all around the shield between the diaphragm and the lining 
of the tunnel. Then, when all was ready, the water was 
turned on In the jacks, forcing the plungers out, and push- 



8o With the Men Who Do Things. 

ing the shield bodily forward a distance of about two feet, 
or just enough to get in another ring of lining. The work 
required great care because with the jacks the shield was 
steered and made to move up or down, or to the right or 
left, so as to follow the course of the tunnel as planned. 
The tunnel was being pushed through from the other side 
of the river as well, and, unless the work followed the survey 
accurately, the headings would not meet properly at the 
center of the river. Just how accurately the steering was 
done we learned, many months later, when the shields 
of the two headings met. One of the shields was four 
inches lower than the other, but otherwise the alinement was 
perfect. Think of it! Only four inches out, after grovel- 
ing in the dark through a mile of silt! 

The way the lining was set in place was interesting. 
There was an "erector," or a sort of hydraulic crane, 
mounted on the face of the shield, with which the lining 
plates were picked up and placed in position after the 
shield had been moved forward. These plates were curved 
to the arc of the tunnel, and had deep flanges on all four 
sides through which the bolts were passed that fastened 
them one to the other. The deep flanges made them very 
strong indeed. 

For four hours we toiled steadily. It seemed eight be- 
fore the gang knocked off for luncheon. I was disappointed 
to find that the dawn was only just breaking when we 
emerged fromi the tunnel. We hadn't thought about eating, 
and had brought no lunch-pail. The idea of taking lunch at 



Sand Hogs. 8i 

four o'clock in the morning would have seemed ridiculous 
to us. 'Needless to say, the idea was far from ridiculous 
now. Hot coffee was served in the sand-hog house, but 
we were ravenous for something more substantial. There 
were no restaurants open in that vicinity at that time of the 
morning. One of the men took pity on us and gave us a 
few bites of his luncheon, for which we were truly grateful. 

He was a fine fellow, an old hand at the game, and he 
knew all there was to know about pneumatic work. He it 
was who explained our problem of the tumbler. 

"It's simple enough," he said; "the pressure of the water 
depends on the depth, and so there is more water-pressure 
at the bottom of the tunnel than at the top; but there isn't 
any difference worth mentioning in the air-pressure between 
the top and bottom of the tunnel. If the material out in 
front of the tunnel was very soft, and we made the air- 
pressure heavy enough to keep out the water at the bot- 
tom of the heading, it would all escape out of the top; 
and if the air-pressure was just equal to the water-pressure 
at the top of the tunnel, the water would pour in at the 
bottom. Just now the material we are going through is 
clay-like, and we don't have to bother very much about dif- 
ferences of pressure at the top and bottom of the tunnel; 
but when we go through quick-sand, with very little 'cover' 
between the shield and the bed of the river, then comes 
trouble. We don't dare work out in front of the dia- 
phragm, but must open small shutters in the diaphragm 
and scoop out the sand. That's when we are apt to have 



82 



With the Men Who Do Things, 



blow-outs. The air will burst through the fluid sand and 
boil up. Sometimes a burst of air will make the water shoot 
up like a geyser from the surface of the river." 

"What happens when you strike a rock?" Bill inquired. 

"We have to blast it out of the way. The worst trouble 
comes when we strike a ledge at the floor of the tunnel, and 
have soft silt or quick-sand overhead. We had a job like 



SILT 




FIG. 6. DRILLING THE ROCK LEDGE OUT IN FRONT OF THE SHIELD. 



that in the North River once. A shelf, or 'apron,' was 
built out from the shield, half-way up, virtually dividing 
the front of the shield into an upper and lower chamber. 
Under protection of this apron, workmen crawled out in 
front of the shield, drilled holes in the rock for mild 
charges of explosive, and then crept back within the shield 
and set off the dynamite. After that they had to crawl 
out again and haul the broken rock away. It was slow. 



Sand Hogs. 83 

work, because the operations had to be carried on in 
cramped quarters, and only a little of the rock could be 
blasted at a time. Fortunately, there was very little rock 
to pass through. It was merely a reef in the ocean of 
silt. Before we struck that reef, we found the material 
so soft that we didn't bother to dig it away in front of the 
shield, but merely pushed the shield ahead through the 
silt with the hydraulic jacks." 

Our friend was in the midst of his explanations when 
the signal came to resume work. Our half-hour of respite 
had seemed like only five minutes. We were aching all 
over. How could we ever endure the three and a half hours 
of labor before the next shift came on? Luckily for us, 
the boss did not pay as much attention to us this time as 
he did before, and we could ease up a bit on our work with- 
out having him bawl out at us to "Git busy there!" every 
two minutes. 

Slowly the hours dragged by. Finally, when it seemed 
as if we could endure it no longer, the signal to quit was 
sounded, and we all trooped out. Tired! I was never so 
tired in all my life, and I was desperately hungry, too. The 
first thing we did was to hunt up a restaurant, where we 
devoured such a breakfast as astonished the waiter. Then 
we went straight home to bed. 



CHAPTER X. 

A MAN GOES SKY-ROCKETING THROUGH THE 
RIVER BED. 



Along toward the middle of the week, we were shifted 
to the heading at the other side of the river. The work 
here did not differ materially from that which we had been 
doing, but we found" It easier to do a day's work that began 
at eight A. M. and ended at four P. m, than one that took 
up the hours between midnight and our customary rising 
hour. We were learning how to swing the shovel to better 
advantage, and we were not half so weary when our day's 
toll was ended. We got very well acquainted with the 
men, and found them a pretty decent sort. To be sure, 
they "jollied" us a great deal, but we were wise enough to 
take It good-naturedly. 

Nothing very exciting occurred until the last day of our 
contract week. That day started wrong. In the first place, 
the gang foreman failed to show up, and we went down the 
shaft without him, taking our regular places. Soon the 
superintendent came down and appointed one of the more 
experienced men foreman of the gang. That's where the 
trouble first started*. 

We had been having considerable difficulty with boul- 
ders In the path of the shield. They had to be broken up 

84 




VIEW LOOKING TOWARD THE SHIELD, SHOWING THE TRAVELING PLATFORM 
THAT CARRIES THE ERECTOR. 




TWO SHIELDS FROM OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE RIVER MEETING PERFECTLY. 



A Man Goes Sky-rocketing through the River Bed. 85 

before they could be hauled out of the way. During the 
night, an extra large boulder had been encountered, and an 
attempt had been made to blast it. The blasting had failed 
to make any material impression on the rock, but it had 
loosened up the silt and mud overhead so that it was in a 
very shaky condition. Had our foreman shown up that 
morning, no doubt he would have learned from the fore- 
man of the night gang just what had occurred, and, accord- 
ingly, would have proceeded very cautiously; but we went 
about our work as if nothing had happened. 

Several men were outside of the shield at work in the 
different pockets. The new foreman climbed up into one 
of the upper pockets, when he noticed a bad leak at the 
edge of the "apron." The apron in this case was a curved 
steel plate that projected from the upper part of the shield, 
like the poke of a sunbonnet, and protected the men below 
from material that might fall on them. It was supported by 
slanting braces. As soon as he saw the leak, the foreman 
called the men to bring up bags of sand and clay to choke 
up the hole. Two men climbed up through the door in the 
diaphragm with bags of sand. The first one, "Jerry," was 
about to hand up the bag, and the other fellow, "Jake," was 
right behind him, when suddenly, with a sound like a giant 
cough, the air burst through the silt above the apron. The 
tunnel had discharged like a pneumatic gun. The air picked 
up the men as if they had been straws, and flung them head- 
long into the mud. I happened to catch a fleeting glimpse of 
all this while I snatched desperately at something to keep 



86 With the Men Who Do Things. 

trom being blown along with them. At the very same 
instant, the lights went out, and we were plunged in inky 
darkness, while we could hear the rush of water pouring 
into the tunnel. There was a panic at once. Every one 
started on a mad scramble, stumbling and falling over one 
another and the various timbers and obstructions, shouting 
and yelling — a wild run of 400 feet to the locks. Bill and 
I grouped our way back as fast as we could, hand in hand. 
My chum had been knocked down and rendered all but 
unconscious by an ugly blow on the forehead. 

It was not until we had all entered the locks and had 
actually begun to lock ourselves through that our senses 
returned to us. We were like the Irishman who swam ashore 
to save himself first, and then swam back to save the other 
fellow. The foreman, who had fled with the rest, suddenly 
remembered the responsibility that rested upon him. Hastily 
he counted noses, and found that two were missing. 

"They must have been- caught by the blow-out," he said; 
"we must go back to save them if we can," Candles were 
procured, and we all went back into the black tunnel. 

As we neared the shield, we heard a faint voice calling 
for help, and we shouted encouragement. The water was 
rapidly growing deeper, and already it was up to our 
knees. We found a poor fellow lodged in the mud between 
the boulder which the night shift had tried to blast and one 
of the slanting braces of the apron. It was Jake. What had 
become of Jerry? We could not imagine. We had work 
enough trying to extricate the man before us. When the 



A Man Goes Sky-rocketing through the River Bed. 87 

blow-out occurred, he was knocked senseless for a time, but 
then the black water and mud flowing in through the open- 
ing made by the outpouring air ran down over his face, 
and restored him to consciousness. When he came to, all had 
deserted him; everything was dark, and he was pinioned so 
that he couldn't escape, while the black torrent flowing down 
on him nearly drowned him. To make matters worse, as 
soon as the tunnel had discharged most of its air-pressure in 
the blow-out, the silt began to press in upon the shield. This 
threatened slow torture for poor Jake. Slowly but surely the 
boulder would crush him. He called and called. He knew 
that it would not take long for the tunnel to fill with such a 
river of mud flowing into it. Fortunately, he was in the 
upper part of the heading, and it would take longer for 
the water to reach him. He had almost given up hope 
when he heard us coming back. TIhe task of removing him 
was not so simple. We managed to free his body, after 
some work, but his legs were firmly held. There was little 
time left; the water was rising rapidly. 

"Come back," shouted one of the men, "we have got to 
close the doors in the shield, or the tunnel will be filled." 

"What! and leave that fellow out there 1" I cried. 

"We can't get him out anyway, and if the locks are 
flooded, we can't get out ourselves!" he said, vainly tug- 
ging at the doors. In the progress of the tunnel the shield 
had slowly turned over so that the track of the sliding door 
was no longer horizontal, but slanted upward, and the door 
was too heavy for the man to move it up the incline. 



88 With the Men Who Do Things, 

Things were getting desperate. But at last there was a 
shout of triumph. The foreman had succeeded in prying 
loose the rock that held Jake pinioned. It was none too 
soon; the water was pouring in faster than ever. It had 
reached the "spring line," or the center line of the tunnel; 
that is, it was S}i feet deep at the shield. Even when 
walking along the tracks that were elevated above the bot- 
tom of the tube, the water was up to our shoulders; and 
one or two of the shorter men had to swim. 

The rescued worker was placed on a plank and floated 
to the locks. There was no time to think of closing the 
doors in the shield, besides they were submerged, and so 
we could not reach them now. If it hadn't been for the 
grade of the tunnel, the water would have filled it above the 
level of the locks. As it was, the water was beginning to 
slop over the sill of the lock as we splashed up to it. 

But what of the other victim of the blow-out? We had 
found no trace of him anywhere, and there was no pos- 
sibility of making further search for him. 

But when we reached the top of the shaft, you can im- 
agine our amazement at seeing the man who had supposedly 
perished, sitting calmly in the center of an admiring group 
of reporters, and telling a most astonishing story — such as 
was almost beyond belief ! When the tunnel discharged like 
a great air-gun, he had played the part of a bullet, and had 
been shot clear through the bed of the river and up to the 
surface! Two men were In a rowboat under a dock picking 
op driftwood, when suddenly a screaming, mud-covered 



A Man Goes Sky-rocketing through the River Bed. 89 

object shot up out of the depths, rising clear of the water, 
and dropping back again with a splash. They were terror- 
stricken; panic seized them, particularly when the object re- 
appeared and struck out after them, but Jerry's cries for 
help brought them to their senses, although it was some time 
before they realized that he was actually a human being, 
and not some inhabitant of the lower regions. They pulled 
the man aboard and brought him to shore. At first Jerry 
thought he must be badly hurt. He ought to have been 
hurt in such a sky-rocket trip as that, but after feeling himself 
all over carefully, he couldn't for the life of him, find any 
damage to his anatomy ! So there was nothing for him to do 
but report back for work! 

Here was my chance. I rushed for the nearest tele- 
phone and called up the City Editor of the Sphere. 

"Hello," I shouted, "a sand-hog has been blown out 
of the East River tunnel, clear through the bed of the river. 
I was right beside him when it happened. Would you like 
to have me write an article about it? I can get it to you 
in time for the first edition to-morrow." 

"Hey, what's that? Who is this?" 

"Why, I'm the fellow that wrote the story about the sky-, 
scrapers last week." 

"Dion't know you, but whoever you are telephone your 
story now. This is no monthly magazine." 

He switched me over to a man who pumped the story out 
of me almost before I knew it. It was the most sensa- 
tional incident that had ever happened in tunnel work, and I 



90 With the Men Who Do Things. 

had scored a "beat." The next time I called up the City 
Editor he had no difficulty in recalling me. 

Inside of an hour the place fairly buzzed with reporters, 
but while they were still questioning the men, a breathless 
boy came running up with an arm full of "extras" con- 
taining my story. They sold like hot cakes, and Jerry had 
the pleasure of reading all about his own curious adventure. 

There was no more work done that day. It was the last 
day of our contract week, and we were more than glad 
to throw up the job and collect our wages. 



CHAPTER XI. 
STOPPING A LEAK WITH A HUMAN BODY. 

It was sheer luck that brought us back to the tunnel-shaft, 
a few days later, at the precise moment when a distin- 
guished-looking man Issued from the office with Superin- 
tendent Brown at his heels. 

"Why, hello, here they are now!" exclaimed the super- 
intendent as he caught sight of us. "Come here, boys, I 
want to introduce you to Chief Engineer Price." 

"Aha!" said the engineer, "so you are the boys I have 
been hearing about. I suppose you want to contract for 
another week's work, don't you?" 

"Well, not exactly, sir," spoke up Bill. "I don't think 
we care for any more tunnel experiences just now. We have 
had enough to last awhile, but we thought we would stroll 
down and see how you were going to clear the mud and 
water out of that tunnel. Jim and I have been trying to 
figure it out, but we can't, for the life of us, see how you are 
going to do it." 

"Well, boys, if I weren't in such a beastly hurry just 
now," said Mr. Price, looking at his watch, "I would like 
to have a talk with you. You come to my office to-morrow 
at one o'clock sharp. I want you to take lunch with me. 
Here is my address," and he handed Bill his card and was 
off before we had recovered from our surprise. 

91 



92 Stopping a Leak with a Human Body. 

Just as the clock struck one the next day, we pushed open 
the door of the engineer's rooms, and were promptly shown 
into his inner office. 

"Good morning, boys," he said cordially, shaking hands 
with us. "You're on time to the minute, I see. There is 
nothing I commend so highly as promptness. We shall 
step right out to luncheon and do our talking there." 

The club to which Mr. Price took us was so richly and 
elaborately furnished that we were quite overwhelmed; but 
our host soon put us at ease. He wanted to know all about 
us and what Induced us to try our hand at sand-hogging. 
We told him the whole story from beginning to end. 

"And this Uncle Ed, who is he?" 

"Why, Edward Jordan, the engineer." 

"What! are you 'Eddy' Jordan's nephew? I u^ed to know 
him when I was at school. We used to have great times 
together. By the way, your uncle knows quite a little about 
tunneling, although that is not his specialty in engineering. 
Didn't he ever tell you about his experience in the Hudson 
River tube, at the time they had the blow-out that threat- 
ened the tunnel?" 

"He never told me anything about It," answered Bill. 

"That's odd. It happened when they encountered a ledge 
of rock under the main channel near the New York end. 
The cutting edge at- the bottom of the shield was crumpled 
against the rock and it was necessary to pass out In front of 
the shield to do some excavating." 

"Oh, yes. One of your men told us all about that and 



Stopping a Leak with a Human Body. 93 

how they put a steel apron in front of the shield to work 
under." 

"But did he tell you about how they stopped the blow-out 
with a man's body?" 

"A man's body? A dead man?" 

"Oh no, he was very much alive. It was like this. The 
work of erecting the apron took some time. First thing 
they did- after striking the ledge was to force 'poling boards' 
out into the mud In front of the shield so as to form a sort 
of roof. Then as they dug away the mud, they built up 
side walls with 'breast boards' or short upright pieces. Then 
it was decided to substitute a steel apron for the roof of 
'poling boards.' When this had been done, the rock was 
laid bare for drilling and blasting. But all this took so 
much time that the mud covering over the tunnel was very 
much weakened. There is always a tendency for the air 
to escape between the lining and the top of the shield. There 
is usually a gap there of an inch or so for clearance, and it 
is kept plugged with sand bags." 

"Yes, we " 

"Of course you know all about that. I forgot that you 
were sand-hogs. You probably know that while the shield 
stands still for a short time, the silt retains the pressure in 
the tunnel, but if it stands a long time, the air that is con- 
stantly leaking out loosens up the silt. The river was sixty- 
five feet deep at that point and the mud was only about ten 
feet deep over It. Gradually the mud was carried away 
until there was nothing but water over the shield. As long 



94 With the Men Who Do Things. 

as the shield was not moved, there was no danger, but as 
soon as it was shoved forward for a new ring of Hning, the 
packing of sand bags would be disturbed, first the air would 
rush out, and then the water would pour in so fast that the 
tunnel would be swamped. That was the situation that con- 
fronted the engineers. The proper course would be to 
dump a scow-load of clay into the depression hollowed out 
by the air over the tunnel, and in that way to build an 
artificial bottom for the river, so as to hold the air in while 
the shield was pushed forward. But this was in the dead 
of winter. The clay banks were all frozen. The river was 
choked with ice. The longer they waited, the larger the 
depression became. Something had to be done at once. The 
work of blasting away the ledge in front of the shield was 
pushed with feverish activity. As soon as a sufficient space 
had been cleared away the chief engineer decided to risk 
moving the shield without any cover. A double shift of 
men was summoned to fight the air and water with bags of 
sand and clay. Preparations were made to run the air 
pumps at full pressure on a moment's notice. Your uncle, 
who was a friend of the chief engineer, asked, as a special 
favor, that he rnight be present to watch the operations. 
When all was ready, the hydraulic jacks were operated and 
slowly the big shield moved on. As the packing between the 
shield and the lining was dislodged, the air burst out with a 
deafening roar. The pressure in the tunnel dropped sud- 
denly and everything was obscured in a dense fog. The 
men had been standing ready with bags to stop just such an 



Stopping a Leak with a Human Body. 95 

outflow. The veteran sand-hogs closed In on the work of 
plugging the leak, but the terrific racket and the dense fog 
disconcerted the new men, who had never experienced a 
'blow-out,' and they stampeded. The foreman had to round 
them up and drive them back to the fight. The air com- 
pressors were working to the limit of their capacity, but the 
air was pouring out faster than It could be pumped In. Your 
Uncle Ed was right there In the thick of the battle, piling 
in the sand bags. But no sooner were they stuffed into the 
gap than they would be blown right through by the air. All 
around the lower part of the shield the water was stream- 
ing In. All the men could hope to do, was to retard the 
flow while the shield was being shoved for a new ring 
of plate. But the air was being lost faster than the pumps 
could supply It, no matter how hard they worked at plug- 
ging the leaks temporarily, until the finish of the "shove." 
Ammunition was getting low. The sand bags were prac- 
tically all gone. Men used everything they could get hold 
of, old clothes, coats, even their shirts were stuffed Into 
that ravenous gap. At one critical moment your uncle Ed- 
ward picked up one of the sand-hogs and before the fellow 
knew what was up, he shoved his back against the worst 
leak. There he stuck with his back to the roof of the 
shield, pinned fast by the air pressure. My! but wasn't he 
frightened. Struggle as he would, he couldn't escape. 
In the meantime the men worked frantically, until the shove 
was completed, when all air leaks were stopped and the 
air pressure again became high enough to overcome the 



96 With the Men Who Do Things. 

hydrostatic head of the river outside, the man was relieved 
from his odd position, and the ring of plates was erected. 
One more shove of the shield, another ring of cast iron 
lining and the danger spot was passed. A safe covering 
of mud overlay the shield." 

Mr. Price smiled indulgently as he noted the eagerness 
with which we followed every word of the story. 

"Sounds dramatic doesn't it — stopping a leak with a 
human body, but there is nothing unusual about it. It is fre- 
quently done, but the sand-hog your uncle used had never 
gone through such an experience. It doesn't hurt in the least 
you know. If only the hole hadn't been so large the other 
day, Jerry would have stopped the leak instead of shooting 
through the river and our tunnel would not be flooded with 
water now." 

"How are you going to get the water out?" Bill inquired. 

"Oh, that is not such a very difficult job," said Mr. Price. 
"We have located the hole in the bed of the river, and 
tomorrow, at slack tide, we are going to sink a tarpaulin 
over it and dump clay on the tarpaulin. That ought to 
make a pretty effective seal, and then we shall pump the 
water out of the tunnel and the air into it at the same 
time. I will give you a pass to see the work if you like. 

"Oh, Mr. Ludlow I" called out Engineer Price to a large 
man with a long gray mustache who was passing our table. 
"Sit down here a minute. I want you to meet a pair of very 
promising young engineers. This is Bill, Eddy Jordan's 
nephew, and this his chum, Jim. Mr. Ludlow, boys, is the 




BUILDING A TEMPORARY FOOT BRIDGE ACROSS THE KIVER. 




THREE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE EAST RIVER. 




DRAWING BACK THE SHOE WITH A HYDRAULIC JACK. 




TURNING THE SHOE ON EDGE AND FITTING IT BETWEEN THE EYE BARS. 



Stopping a Leak with a Human Body. 97 

chief engineer of the new East River suspension-bridge." 
Then he proceeded to sing our praises to the bridge engi- 
neer, much to our embarrassment. "Why, they have been 
actually groveling in the mud as sand-hogs for a whole 
week, just to learn something about tunnel work at first hand 
instead of through books. Such striving after knowledge, 
such devotion to engineering, should be encouraged. Now, 
why can't you arrange to have them shown over your 
bridge?" 

"Why, I should be delighted to," said Mr. Ludlow. 
"Call at my office, boys, and I will give you a letter of intro- 
duction to Mr. Blanchard, my assistant, who is in immediate 
charge of the work." 

"Will you, sir?" said Bill eagerly. "Thank you so much. 
That's the very work we wanted most to see." 

And before that luncheon was over, we had met a num- 
ber of engineers, all of whom took a kindly interest in us, 
and offered to show us through the various lines of work in 
which they were engaged. 



CHAPTER XII. 
SPINNING A WEB ACROSS THE RIVER. 

"I SUPPOSE what you are most anxious to see Is how 
the cables are strung," said Mr. Blanchard, as he walked 
out of his office toward the bridge, after we had presented 
our letter of introduction. "But what's the use of cables 
unless you have something to tie them to, eh?" 

"You miean the towers," I ventured. 

"Oh, no, they couldn't begin to stand up against the pull 
of those cables. We just put In the towers to raise the 
bridge high enough above the river — something after the 
fashion of the clothes-poles with which a washerwoman 
props up her clothes-line. Why, you have no Idea what 
a strong pull there Is on the bridge cables. We have to 
build great masses of stonework, and embed In the masonry 
enormous steel bars linked together like giant chains, to 
which the cables are fastened. The anchorages of this 
bridge are each as long as a city block (225 feet), and 175 
feet wide, and when they are finished, they will be built 
up as high as an eight-story building." 

With this impressive Introduction, Mr. Blanchard led 
the way up to the anchorage, and let us see for ourselves 
the huge chain of eye-bars. They were stringing the cables 
in separate strands, and each strand was fastened to a 
separate pair of eye-bars. 

98 



spinning a Web Across the River. 99 

As Mr. Blanchard was anxious to inspect the work at 
the other end of the bridge, he did not stop to explain this 
just then, but started with us up one of the temporary 
foot-bridges that ran up, under each cable, to the nearer 
tower. 

It was quite a climb, particularly as we neared the top, 
where the slant of the footwalk was very steep. The 
towers, reaching up to a height of 350 feet above the water, 
had looked very slender from a distance, and hardly strong 
enough to sustain the weight of a heavy double-deck bridge ; 
but we found on closer inspection that they were made of 
massive steel, rising 322 feet above the masonry pier. 

"They're tremendously strong, aren't they? I should 
think they would stand up under almost any load," re- 
marked Bill. 

"They'll carry the load," said Mr. Blanchard, "but we 
expect them to sway some, back and forth. The top may 
move one way or the other, as much as two feet from 
the upright position." 

"Why, how's that?" I queried. 

"When the summer sun beats upon the cables, they will 
grow so hot that it would be uncomfortable to put your 
hand on them, and you will find that they will have ex- 
panded considerably. On the other hand, when the bitter 
cold winds of winter chill them down below zero, they will 
contract appreciably. We expect the cables to be twenty 
or thirty Inches shorter in winter than summer. The total 
change will be greater In the long span between the towers 



100 With the Men Who Do Things. 

than in the shorter shore spans from the towers to the an- 
chorages, and so the towers will have to bend to accommo- 
date themselves to this variable pull. In the Brooklyn 
Bridge, the cables pass over cradles on rollers, so that they 
can travel back or forth with the cable to allow for these 
variations in the length of the spans. In this bridge, we 
are going to let the cables rest directly on the towers, and 
let the towers themselves bend back and forth, to allow 
for differences in length of the cable. I don't suppose they 
will ever bend much more than six inches one way or the 
other, but we have allowed for a flexure of twenty-four 
inches." 

We followed Mr. Blanchard down one of the steep foot- 
bridges and up the opposite tower. It was a rather long 
walk, over a quarter of a mile In a straight line, and con- 
siderably more following the curve of the cables, as we 
had to. The foot-bridges were merely continuous plat- 
forms, about nine feet wide, and supported on temporary 
cables under the four main cables that were being strung. 
I kept strictly to the center line of that platform, and didn't 
pay much attention to the boats that were plying back and 
forth beneath us; The foot-bridges were connected In pairs 
every five or ten feet, by means of beams, and at various 
intervals there were cross-walks connecting the south pair 
of bridges with -the north pair. It made my flesh creep 
to see the workmen walk across the narrow beams be- 
tween the platforms. ^1 

All the time, the wire carriers were traveling back and 



-II 



spinning a Web Across the River. loi 

forth over our heads, just like spiders spinning their threads 
across the river. The carriers were merely large pulley- 
wheels connected to traveling-cables. The wire was looped 
over the pulley-wheel, and as the wheel traveled across, it 
would string two lengths of wire at once. 

When we had reached the opposite side of the river, Mr. 
Blanchard explained the wire-stringing process. The steel 
wire was about half the size of a lead-pencil, but it was 
strong enough to lift forty mien. It was wound on enor- 
mous reels weighing four tons each, and with 80,000 feet 
of wire to the reel. When the cables were finished, they 
would be nearly two feet in diameter, 2i>4 inches, to be 
exact. Each cable was made up of 9472 wires, strung in 
thirty-seven separate strands of 256 wires each. Alto- 
gether, in the four cables there would be 23,132 miles of 
wire, or enough to go nine-tenths of the way around the 
earth. 

The wire In a strand, he said, was looped around "shoes" 
at each end of the bridge, and ran in a continuous length, 
like a skein of silk. When the strand was completed, the 
ends were spliced together. When the strand was started, 
the wire was temporarily fastened at one end and passed 
around the shoe. Then it was slipped over the carrier, a 
signal was given, and the cable started, and the carrier 
proceeded merrily on its way across the river. When it 
reached the top of the first tower, the lower reach of wire 
was gripped and hauled up until adjusted as to tension, so 
that the sag would correspond with a standard guide wire. 



102 With the Men Who Do Things. 

Then it was clamped, and the signal was sent to the next 
tower, where it was similarly gripped and adjusted. This 
done, a signal was sent on to the anchorage, where the 
final adjustment took place. As soon as the carrier re- 
leased this wire, it took back with it a pair of wires of 
another skein, which gave time for adjusting the upper reach 
of wire just strung. The wires were laid at one side of 
the position they were to occupy in the final cable, and when 
the strand was completed, it was moved out of the tempo- 
rary rollers upon permanent shoes. The work of splicing 
the ends of the strand together usually took about five min- 
utes. The shoes on which the strands were built up were 
horizontal. When a strand was completed, the shoes had 
to be drawn back by a hydraulic jack, turned on edge, and 
pulled back between a pair of steel eye-bars. Here they 
were made fast by a cross-pin. As the carriers strung two 
wires at a time, it took only six days to complete a strand. 
The wire was drawn through heavy oil and graphite, to 
prevent rusting while the cable was being made up. 

We spent mr.ny hours on the bridge, examining the work, 
just how many I do not know; but it did not seem long 
before we heard several factory whistles, which warned us 
that it was five o'clock, and quitting time. We followed 
Mr. Blanchard down to the wash-room, and began to wash 
up. We were on. the Brooklyn side, and as I was washing 
my hands, I looked over across the water to the tall bridge- 
tower on the New York side. A thin wisp of smoke was 
curling up from the very top of the structure. 




'mr. blanchard didn't stop for argument but ran across the bridge." — 

See page 104. 




LWOH i^rSA-NO FASTKXKn TO ITS OWN AN1.UOK CHAIN'. 




STKINGINO THE LAST TAIK OK WIRES ON A CAKKIEK BEARING THE STARS 

A Nil STRH'ES. 



spinning a Web Across the River. 103 

"That tower looks just like a factory chimney," I re- 
marked to Mr. Blanchard. 

"Eh, how's that?" 

"Don't you see the smoke coming out of the top of it? 
It seems to be getting thicker." 

Mr. Blanchard took one look at the tower, then rushed 
to the telephone and rang up the office on the other side; 
but could get no answer. He rattled the receiver hook 
wildly, growing more excited every moment. Finally, he 
threw the instrument down violently, and tore out of the 
room without a word to us. We didn't stop to replace the 
receiver on the hook, but followed him as fast as we could 
up to the top of the Brooklyn tower, and then along the foot- 
bridge to the other side. The smoke was pouring in dense 
volumes from the tower now, and we could see the flames 
that were eating up the woodwork. It seemed like an end- 
less run across that long foot-bridge. I hadn't time to think 
of getting dizzy now. My eyes were on the blazing tower, 
that seemed miles away. Down below us a fire-boat was 
screaming, and the clang of fire apparatus showed us that 
the fire-department had responded promptly. I could see 
that quite a crowd of men had collected and were trying 
to put out the fire. 

We were on the north foot-bridge, and just as we neared 
the burning tower, a gang of men rushed down the foot- 
bridge and across the small connecting bridge to the south 
foot-bridge. They had tools with them, and apparently 
their Idea was to cut off enough of the timber to prevent 



104 With the Men Who Do Things. 

the fire from creeping across the foot-bridge to the Brook- 
^lyn side. 

"Come back here, you," yelled Mr. Blanchard, when he 
saw what they were up to. They were so intent on their 
work that they didn't hear him. At any rate, they didn't 
heed, but started right in chopping off the planks. Mr. 
Blanchard didn't stop for argument, but ran across the 
bridge and began hauling them back by main force. He was 
so excited he could scarcely speak. "What is the matter 
with you?" he cried; "don't you know the fire will burn 
through the cables and drop you, foot-bridge and all, into 
the river?" 

It finally dawned on them what he was after, and tHey 
scampered back, Mr. Blanchard bringing up the rear. Just 
as he was half-way between the two foot-walks, the cables 
gave way, and down crashed the south bridge. The con- 
necting cross-walks gave our bridge a yank that sent us 
all sprawling. Bill, who was near the edge, almost rolled 
overboard, but one of the men grabbled him by the seat 
of his trousers just as he was teetering over the brink, and 
hauled him inboard. I didn't see that incident because my 
attention was fixed upon Mr. Blanchard. The cross-bridge 
had broken in the middle, and as the broken end sprang 
up, Mr. Blanchard was nearly slung off by the recoil. But 
he clung on desperately until some of the men had re- 
covered sufficiently to seize him and drag him up to safety. 

TEe fallen foot-bridge did not drop into the river, but was 
caught in the tangle of suspended cables. Some of the burn- 



spinning a Web Across the River, 105 

ing tirnbers dropped into the water, narrowly escaping a 
ferry-boat that was passing under at the time. There was 
nothing for us to do but to run on up to the tower and 
give what aid we could there, in fighting the fire. Things 
were in a pretty bad way. The cotton-waste and oil-soaked 
timbers, and the barrels of tar and paint and oil, made the 
very best of fuel, but to fight the fire there was only a 
single barrel of drinking-water, which had already been 
used to no avail. The fire-boat couldn't begin to reach us, 
and fire-engines about the base of the tower were helpless. 
Some of the firemen tried to drag the hose up the long 
stairways to the top of the tower, but when they finally did 
reach the top, and gave the signal for the water to be turned 
on, the hose burst, and all their labor went for naught. A 
second hose line was made of better stuff, but only a weak, 
sickly stream trickled out of the nozzle, because the en- 
gines were scarcely powerful enough to pump water so 
high, even when a number of them were coupled up in 
tandem. A few of the firemen had hand-extinguishers with 
them, which held the blaze in check for several minutes ; but 
that ammunition gave out soon, and it was evident that 
we would have to abandon everything and run. 

That retreat was an exciting one. The fire had spread 
to the northern side of the tower, and as we ran down 
the stairway, blazing brands kept dropping on us. To add 
to our peril, there were several barrels of bolts at the top 
of the tower, and these were heated to redness in the fire, 
and, as the barrels and flooring burned away, they be- 



io6 With the Men Who Do Things. 

gan to drop down upon us. I didn't know at what moment 
a heavy bolt might strike me on the head and lay me out. 
A man in front of me had his clothing set afire by an in- 
candescent bolt, which fell on the edge of his coat-pocket 
and hung there a moment. We were not half-way down 
the tower when there was a crash, and the north foot-bridge 
fell; but we were so busy dodging firebrands and bolts that 
we didn't even pause in our rush down the stairs. 

When I reached the ground I didn't stop running. 

"Hey, come back. What are you afraid of," Bill called 
after me. 

"I've got to find a 'phone." 

A man tried to stop me. I recognized him as a reporter 
for a rival paper and dodged him. 

The Evening Sphere did not score a "beat" that day 
but the story we published contained details not to be found 
in any other paper, and although not so lurid as some 
accounts that appeared in the yellow journals it was abso- 
lutely true. 

That fire was one of the oddest the New York fire- 
department ever had to tackle. They could really do 
nothing but let the fire burn itself out at its own sweet 
will. 

When we went around to see Mr. Blanchard a few 
days later, he explained to us just what damage had been 
done to the main cables. It was evident that the cables 
had been heated red hot during the fire, because they were 
badly burned and flaked. A number of wires would evi- 



spinning a Web Across the River. 107 

dently have to be cut out and replaced with new sections. 
Some of the less seriously injured wires were cut out and 
sent to have their strength tested. These tests were very 
favorable, and showed that the cables were not half so badly 
damaged as it was feared that they might be. 

Near the end of the summer, we visited the bridge again, 
so as to watch the cable-winding process after all the strands 
had been strung. First, several strands were squeezed 
together with crescent-jawed tongs, and fastened, at in- 
tervals, to form a core for the cable. Then the other strands 
were grouped about them and fastened temporarily. After 
this, the wire-winding machine was mounted on the cable. 
This was a large gear-wheel in two parts, bolted together 
about the cable. A traveler arranged to move along the 
cable carried a small electric motor that turned a pinion 
or small gear-wheel, fitting into the large gear, and in that 
way made the gear rotate around the cable. A spool of 
wire on the gear was caried around with it, winding the 
wire around the cable. A brake on the spool kept the 
wire under a constant tension. After the wire was wound, a 
steel sheathing miade in half-sections was bolted about the 
cable. "Every so often" a collar was applied to the cable, 
and suspender cables were attached to them. To these 
suspenders, floor beams and girders were to be fastened, 
and on them the double deck of the bridge was to be 
built up. 

To-day, at any time, you can see a procession of trucks 
plodding over the bridge, with a string of hurrying trolleys 



io8 With the Men Who Do Things. 

and rushing elevated trains loaded to the limit of capacity 
with human freight, all supported by the combined strength 
of those thread-like wires that were spun by human spiders 
across the East River. 




'SEVERAL STRANDS WERE SQUEEZED TOGETHER 

See page 107. 



- - TO FORM A CORE. 




SECURING THE GIRDERS TO THE CABLES. 



CHAPTER XIII. 
CARS THAT TRAVEL SKYWARD. 

Bill and I were sauntering down Broadway one day, 
when a man suddenly grabbed me by the arm. "Hello!" 
he cried, "aren't you the boys that blew in from the clouds 
up at the top of the Manhattan Syndicate Building?'* 

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Hotchkiss," we both ex- 
claimed. 

"I'mi well, thanks. But where have you been all this 
time? Why haven't you been around to see me?" 

"We have really intended to," apologized Bill, "but you 
know there is such a lot of interesting work going on in 
New York, and we have had so much to see — " 

"So much to see? So you are still at it, are you? Mr. 
Squires told me about the narrow escape in the caisson, and 
I had about concluded that your experience there had cured 
you of some of your inquisitiveness." 

"We have had a worse experience than that. We were 
in a pretty bad blow-out in one of the tunnels under the 
river." 

"You don't mean the time that fellow was blown through 
the river-bed?" 

"Yes, we were right alongside of him when It happened; 
and then we were on the new bridge when it took fire." 

109 



no With the Men Who Do Things, 

"What!" 

"Yes, we had quite a time of it, dodging embers and 
red-hot bolts all the way down the tower." 

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mr. Hotchkiss, "if I had 
known what 'hoodoos' you were, I would have 'shoo-ed' 
you right out of my building ! Why, you are positively dan- 
gerous to have around! Comie in here quick, before a 
cyclone strikes us, or a safe falls on our heads !" Mr. 
Hotchkiss hustled us into a restaurant. "I want you to 
lunch with me, and -tell me the whole story of your ex- 
periences. Three narrow escapes in succession ! and here I 
was just going to send you over to another job. Now, I 
don't believe I dare assume the responsibility." 

"We have had some rather exciting times," I admitted, 
"but I thought that they were very common in big engineer- 
ing jobs." 

"There is real danger in all big work, but such a run 
of accidents as you have -had is decidedly out of the or- 
dinary; and if you keep on, you will get so bad a reputa- 
tion that no one will want you around." 

"But how can we help it?" 

"I don't suppose you can. It is about time your luck 
turned, though. I'll try you on this next thing, anyway, 
and see whether you can't come off without an accident. 
As a matter of fact, I can't imagine what could happen this 
time." 

"What is the job?" asked Bill, eagerly. 

"There are all sorts of transportation systemis in this 



Cars that Travel Skyward. iii 

town," began Mr. Hotchkiss, "to bring New York's teem- 
ing population to and from work every day. The trolleys, 
or surface lines, carry something like two million passengers 
per day, and the elevated railways nearly a million and a 
half, while the subways take in just about a million fares. 
But there is a transportation system here in this city that 
carries more than all the rest put together — eight million 
passengers per day." 

"Eight millions! What, here in New York?" 

"Yes, in Manhattan alone." 

"Why, I thought there were only five million people all 
told in Greater New York." 

"People, yes, but I said passengers. One man could be a 
dozen passengers if he took a dozen trips in a day. Yes, 
sir, it Is the greatest and busiest transportation system in 
the world, yet it doesn't take in a single fare. What's 
more, it is one of the safest forms of transportation. Have 
you guessed what I am talking about?" 

"It's too much for me," I confessed. 

"You don't mean the elevators, do you?" queried Bill. 
"They are not any too safe, from what I hear." 

"That is exactly what I do mean, and I will prove to 
you that you are safer riding on an elevator than walking 
the street. On the average, there are no less than three 
hundred killed and many thousand Injured on the streets of 
New York every year. In ten years, there have been only 
thirty-eight killed and two hundred and seventy injured In 
elevators in Manhattan, and when you consider that there 



112 With the Men Who Do Things. 

are nine thousand passenger-elevators and sixteen thousand 
freight-elevators in the borough, running up and down all 
day, the wonder is that the accidents are so few. Why, 
if you put all those elevator-shafts together, one on top of 
the other, they would reach five hundred miles in the air. 
That would give you a pretty good start toward the moon. 
And eight million passengers! That is more than all the 
railroads of the country carry in a week; and railroad 
injuries run up into the thousands every year. In the 
Manhattan Syndicate Building, we are going to have the 
finest system of elevators in the world, all driven by elec- 
tricity, a regular railroad system, with 'locals' and 'ex- 
presses' — some of them running up to the twenty-eighth 
floor without a stop." 

"It must take an awful lot of power to lift an elevator," 
I remarked. 

"Not as much as you think. In fact, it often takes more 
power to run an empty car down than a partly loaded 
one up." 

"Why, how can that be I" we both exclaimed In astonish- 
ment. 

"It is like thisi . A car is always balanced with a counter- 
weight. The cables that run up from the top of the car 
pass over a set of sheaves or pulleys at the top of the shaft, 
and at their other ends they are attached to the counter- 
weight. Usually the counterweight Is made heavy enough 
to balance the weight of the car with half a load of pas- 
sengers. Now, If the brakes should give way on the wind- 



Cars that Travel Skyward. 



"3 




FIG. 7. THE AIR CUSHION. 



ing-drum at the top 
of the shaft while a 
car is standing empty 
halfway up the shaft, 
It would actually fall 
up instead of down, 
because It would be 
so greatly over- 
weighted by the coun- 
terbalance. You see, 
all the motor has to 
do is to move the dif- 
ference In weight be- 
tween the car with 
its passengers and the 
counterweight; and 
this can never equal 
more than half the 
weight of the pas- 
sengers. But I don't 
suppose you would 
find our elevator sys- 
tem half so interest- 
ing as the one I am 
going to send you to. 
The only uncommon 
thing we have is an 
'air-cushion,' but that 



114 With the Men Who Do Things. 

Is not very unusual any more. In fact, the first air cushion 
was installed twenty-five years since. 

"By an air-cushion, I mean," he continued in answer to 
our question, "a scheme for retarding the car in case it 
should fall by any mischance. The bottom of each shaft 
is sealed in with air-tight steel doors, so as to make a rec- 
tangular pocket in which the car fits like a plunger in a 
cylinder. Now, if the car should drop into that pocket at 
high speed, it would comipress the air under it to such an 
extent as to form a- pneumatic cushion that would check 
its fall. Our highest elevator-shaft will be six hundred 
and eighty feet high, the highest continuous elevator-shaft 
in the world, and, as you can imagine, a car would be 
traveling if it fell that far! We don't dare to make the 
stop too abrupt, for it would hurt the passengers, and then, 
too, it would be liable to burst out the doors, so we don't 
raake too close a fit of the car floor in the shaft. But 
that means that we have to extend the air pocket to a 
considerable height. On those high shafts, the air pocket 
extends up one hundred and thirty-seven feet, or ten stories. 
You could cut the cables with the car at the top of the 
shaft and let It fall. It would be making something like 
one hundred and thirty-two miles per hour when it splashed 
into the air pocket, but when the air was compressed under 
it, and squeezed up-between the car floor and the walls of 
the pocket, it would retard the car to such an extent that it 
would settle down to the ground without a serious jar." 

"Has any one ever tried it?" I inquired. 



Cars that Travel 'Skyward. 115 

"Oh, yes, it has been tried often enough. The designer 
of our elevators is going to make the trip himself to prove 
that everything is all right." 

"Oh, sayj could we go with him?" put in Bill, excitedly. 

"What! with your reputation! Well I should say not!" 

"But there isn't any danger, is there?" 

"No, no danger whatever," said Mr. Hotchkiss. "Yet 
you never can tell. A man was fatally injured in a test 
like that once, and you couldn't guess why." 

We shook our heads. 

"Because, instead of standing, he sat in a chair! You 
think I am joking, don't you? but I am perfectly serious, 
I assure you. I'll tell you how it was. If you should 
drop freely for a hundred feet, and then take twenty- 
five feet in which to come to a stop, you would have to lose 
speed four times as fast as you gained it; and so, while 
you were losing speed, you would be adding four pounds 
to every pound you weigh. If you weighed one hundred 
and fifty pounds normally, you would suddenly find your- 
self weighing six hundred pounds more, or seven hundred 
and fifty pounds altogether. The weight would be so well 
distributed that you could stand it if you kept your legs 
firmly braced, but it would be more than a frail chair could 
endure. That is how it was in the case I spoke of. The 
chair was smashed by the suddenly increased load, and the 
man was fatally injured by one of the splinters." 

"But if that is the only danger," persisted Bill, "I don't 
see why we couldn't take the trip. We wouldn't think of 



Ii6 With the Men Who Do Thing^i. 

sitting down. I'd like to see how it feels to fall five hun- 
dred feet in an elevator." 

"You wouldn't enjoy it. I dropped twenty feet In an 
ordinary elevator before the safety-catches stopped the car, 
and I don't care to do it again. Why, do you know, that 
car fell so fast I couldn't catch up to it! I must have given 
a sort of involuntary spring when the car first started, be- 
cause my feet were a foot off the floor all the way down. 
Of course I was falling all the time, but the car kept ahead 
of me until it stopped. Then down I went in a heap on 
the floor. It was all over in an instant, but I lived a life- 
time in that instant, wondering whether the safety-catches 
were going to save me. The elevator man, who was the 
only other one in the car, had evidently jumped too, because 
his head was up against the roof all the way down. No, 
I don't believe you would enjoy the experience, and I 
assure you that I won't let such unlucky scamps as you two 
try it. Something would surely happen 1" 

"What is that other elevator you were going to tell 
us about?" 

"I am not going to tell you about it; I am going to 
let you see it for yourselves." 

He took out his card, wrote an address on the back of it, 
and a word of introduction to a "Mr. Williams." "Now 
show that to Mr^ Williams, and he will let you see some- 
thing that will interest you, I think. Don't forget to 
come back and report any adventures you may experience." 

When wc reached the address to which Mr. HotchkisS",v 



Cars that Travel Skyward. 117 

sent us, we were surprised to find, instead of a finished 
building, a fenced-in lot in which they were still at work 
upon the foundations. 

"This can't be the place," said Bill. "They would hardly 
be putting in the elevators before the building was started." 

"Maybe he meant next door, in that skyscraper," I 
suggested. 

Fortunately the elevator starter of the next building 
happened to know the Mr. Williams for whom we were 
looking, and sent us back to the adjacent lot. "You will 
find William's on the job over there. He is superintending 
the driving of the deepest bore on record." 

That puzzled us all the more, as we couldn't see, for 
the life of us, what that had to do with the construction 
of an elevator. Sure enough, when we got there inside 
the fence and were directed to Mr. Williams, we found that 
he was overseeing the sinking of some sort of a shaft. 
A jolly individual he was, exceedingly fat, and well be- 
spattered with mud. He waddled over to us, looked at our 
card of introduction, then shook us heartily by the hand. 

"So you've com'e over to see how we dig a hole, have 
you? We are down two hundred and sixty feet in one 
shaft, and we still have to go one hundred and five feet 
more; three hundred and sixty-five feet, think of itl How 
is that for a hole, and only twelve inches in diameter, too?" 

"But what has that to do with elevators ?" we asked. 

"Why, this is to be a plunger-elevator. Didn't Mr. 
Hotchkiss tell you?" 



li8 



With the Men Who Do Things. 






■.^ 



1^' 



FIG. 8. 
A PLUNGER ELEVATOB 



Probably most of the boys who read this 
story know what a plunger-elevator is, but 
we were rather green, and had to be told. 
"In each of these deep holes," explained 
Mr. Williams, "we are going to fit a steel 
cylinder, nine inches in diameter inside, 
and closed at the bottom. Within the 
cylinder there is to be a plunger six and 
one-half Inches in diameter. The plunger 
Is going to pass through the stuffing-box at 
the top of the cylinder, just like the stuff- 
ing-box of a steam-cylinder where the pis- 
ton comes out. The plunger Is fully as 
long as the cylinder, and upon it the eleva- 
tor car Is mounted. Now, when water Is 
let Into the cylinder under pressure. It 
forces out the plunger, raising the car. 
What surprises most people Is that the 
plunger does not have a piston-head on its 
lower end, but Is merely a straight piece of 
steel tubing down to the very bottom, 
where It is closed with a cap, and has two 
or three guides on it to keep It centered In 
the cylinder. When the water Is forced 
In, if exerts a pressure in all directions on 
the cylinder as well as on the plunger, but 
nothing can yield to that pressure except 
the bottom of the plunger, which is raised, 



Cars that Travel Skyward. 119 

and so pushes the elevator car up. I will take you over to 
the next building and show you the whole thing in a minute, 
as soon as you have seen how we sink the shafts." 

They were hauling up one of the boring tools just then. 
It was on the end of a cable attached to a "jumping" ma- 
chine. Slowly the cable was wound up, and the length of 
time It took to raise the tool gave us some Idea of the 
enormous depth to which the shaft had already been sunk. 
When the tool finally came up, we found that it was flat, 
with a cutting edge something like a chisel. It was pretty 
badly worn, and a newly sharpened one was put In its place ; 
then down went the tool into the long, deep bore. When It 
reached the bottom, the line was pulled up until the tool 
scarcely touched, after which the machine was started, and 
drilling was resumed. Mr. Williams told us that the tool 
would not be allowed to hit the rock with hammer-blows 
like a pile-driver, for it would be sure to turn off sidewise 
and follow a seam or fault, making a crooked hole. Instead 
the tool was dangled so that it just barely touched, then, 
as It was jumped by the machine, the stretch of the cable at 
each yank would let it strike the rock with a light, springy 
blow that could not turn out of line; at each blow of the 
tool it was turned around slowly, so that it would pound 
out a circular hole. The rock dust was carried to the sur- 
face by forcing water into the bore, so that It was a rather 
mussy job. 

"Before we came to solid rock," explained Mr. Wil- 
liams, "we had to go through about eighty feet of sand, 



120 With the Men Who Do Things. 

and the boring was then done with a water jet. This steel 
tubing," he said, pointing to the lining of the hole, "was 
sunk into the sand by forcing water at high pressure against 
the sand through a jet placed in the bottom of the tubing. 
The water loosened the sand, and it was carried up and out 
of the hole with the overflow." 

After we had seen our fill of the shaft-sinking, Mr. Wil- 
liams took us over to the next building, and showed us how 
plunger-elevators are operated. 

"These elevator-shafts are not nearly as long as the ones 
we are building next door. Tlhey are only two hundred 
feet high." 

We watched one of the elevators go up, pushed by the 
light plunger of hollow steel only six inches in diameter. 
Beads of water trickled down the black, oily surface. As 
the car went up higher and higher, the slender plunger 
began to sway as If it were a flexible rope. The car was 
carrying a heavy load of passengers, and I supposed that 
that was the reason for the unsteadiness of the plunger. 

"It does not s,eemi to be standing the weight very well," 
I said*. "It looks almost as though It would buckle." 

"'Weight!'" he quoted. "Why, that plunger is not 
doing much more than to carry the passengers. The coun- 
' terwelght balances about eighty per cent, of the weight of 
the car and the plunger. I don't know exactly what these 
plungers weigh, but in our elevators next door they will 
weigh close to five and one-half tons. If you loaded one 
of them on a truck, it would take four horses to draw it. 



Cars that Travel Skyward. 121 

But if the cables to the counterweight should break, the 
car would buckle and crumple up that tube as If it were 
made of rubber." 

"That would break the torce of the fall, at any rate," 
remarked Bill. 

"Yes, if the tube didn't snap in two, and a jagged piece 
of it pierce the floor of the car, and injure one or two of 
the passengers." 

"But suppose the plunger broke off and the counterweight 
cables didn't?" I suggested. 

"Why, the car would be relieved of the weight of the 
plunger, and it would shoot up to the top of the shaft like a 
rocket. But an accident like that is next to Impossible. Yet 
I did once hear of a case when a car was undergoing repairs. 
In overhauling the car, the plunger connection had been 
carelessly loosened without fastening the car down, when 
suddenly, without any warning, the strain of the counter- 
weight wrenched the car free from the plunger, and up it 
shot, smashing itself free at the top of the shaft, and then 
falling down to the bottom again. But such a combination 
of carelessness would probably never happen again, and the 
plunger-elevator can be regarded as a pretty safe kind." 

Mr. Williams then showed us through the power plant, 
and explained how the pumps kept the pressure tank up to 
the proper pressure, and that each tank had some air 
trapped In it which acted as a sort of spring, so that, when 
the elevator man turned the valve lever and the water 
rushed into the plunger cylinder, it was forced out at a 



122 With the Men Who Do Things. 

constant pressure by the air; and when he turned the valve 
the other way, the water poured out of the cylinder into 
a reservoir, being squeezed out by the weight of the car 
and the unbalanced weight of the plunger. When the 
pressure in the tank fell too low, a pump would start up 
automatically and pump water out of the reservoir into 
the pressure tank until the desired pressure was restored. 

Fortunately no accident befell us on this occasion, and we 
had a very tame story to report to Mr. Hotchkiss. But 
although there was nothing very thrilling, and deliciously 
exciting about elevators and "jump" drilling, we felt that 
we had learned something worth while; also it made an 
Interesting page in the diary that I was keeping. 




THE HEADFRAME OF A SHAFT IN CENTRAL PARK. 




WATERPROOFING A TROUGH AT IRONDEQUOIT CREEK CROSSING OF THE 

AQUEDUCT. 




AT WORK ON THF. OT.IVE BRIPGE DAM OF THE AQUEDUCT. 



CHAPTER XIV. 
QUENCHING A CITY'S THIRST. 

When a country boy visits New York, about the last 
place he wants to see is the park, and then all he cares 
about in the park is the "Zoo." Thus, Bill and I took in 
nearly all the other sights before we went up to see the 
little patch of make-believe country in the center of the 
big city. What struck us as of particular interest was, not 
the rolling lawns, nor the lake, nor the winding paths 
through the woods, but something that had no business in 
the park at all. It was right alongside one of the sunken 
"transverse" streets that runs across the park. There was a 
high board fence inclosing a yard with several sheds, and 
a wooden tower that was very evidently the head-frame 
of a shaft. 

We ran to the bridge across the "transverse" to see what 
was going on. As we watched, a cage rose quickly to the 
top of the head-frame, a car tilted forward, its end gate 
swung open, and out poured a load of broken rock Into a 
large hopper beneath. Then the cage started down again, 
dragging the car back with it Into the shaft. It was a 
rather deep shaft, too, judging by the length of time that 
the cable was unreeling. Down In the "transverse" below 
the hopper was a cart taking on a load of rock. 

123 



124 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"I wonder what it can be?" queried Bill, excitedly. 

"A new subway, maybe," I responded. "They have been 
talking about one lately." But a man who was leaning over 
the rail beside us broke in with the information that it was 
the new aqueduct. 

"Oh, yes," I chimed in, "Mr. Price told us we must 
surely see it. Don't you remember, Bill?" 

"It's a whale of a job, too," said the stranger. "The 
biggest thing of the kind ever undertaken. There never 
was anything to compare with it." 

"How about the Roman aqueducts?" I put in. 

"A mere trickle of water," he said, contemptuously. 
"Why, this aqueduct is going to be fourteen feet In diam- 
eter. Yes, seventeen feet in some places; and when it is 
entirely completed and worked to its fullest capacity, it 
can furnish us every day with five hundred millllon gallons 
of water, brought here all the way from the Catskill Moun- 
tains. It is. one hundred and twenty-seven miles from the 
proposed upper lake down to the reservoir in Staten Island. 
That's quite a river, now, isn't it? While with the five 
hundred million gallons that we get now from the present 
systems, there will be enough to supply every man, woman 
and child in Greater New York with two hundred gallons 
per day." 

"How much Is two hundred gallons?" I inquired. 

"About three bath-tubfuls, all good, clear, clean water." 

"But what in the world do they expect to do with all 
that water?" 



Quenching a City's Thirst. 125 

"At present, they are not going to complete much more 
than half the work in the mountains. They are merely 
making provision for the future. I suppose, in fifty years' 
time, New York will be so large that even this supply of 
water will not be enough, and then people will have to tap 
Lake Champlain, or Niagara, or something. You young 
fellows ought to go up to Ashokan, and see the work they 
are doing there. They are building a dam a mile long and 
two hundred and twenty feet high, and then there will be 
dikes, and embankments, and weirs, making, altogether, 
about five and one-half miles of masonry and earthworks 
that will turn a whole valley into a lake. Why, they have 
had to move seven villages and thirty-five cemeteries to 
make room for that lake. 

"Cemeteries!" I exclaimed. 

"Yes, they have to dig up and rebury twenty-eight hun- 
dred bodies. On the other side of the mountain, they have 
planned for another large lake, and the two lakes are to be 
connected by a tunnel. From the Ashokan reservoir, they 
are going to convey the water by means of pipe-lines and 
tunnels down to the Hudson River at Break Neck Moun- 
tain, and there, to my mind, is the ntost wonderful thing 
of the whole system. They are going to dip under the Hud- 
son River with a tunnel eleven hundred feet below the 
surface." 

I had been suspecting that the man was exaggerating a 
good deal, and now I was sure of it. "Come off," I Inter- 
rupted, rather impertinently. "You can't 'put that over' 



126 With the Men Who Do Things. 

on us. We know something about tunneling ana excavat- 
ing in this neighborhood, and we know that the deepest 
hole ever dug in New York didn't go one hundred and ten 
feet below water-level; and then the air-pressure in the 
caisson was so heavy that the men could only put in two 
hours' work a day." 

"BiUt," explained the man, "this Is not caisson work. 
The 'siphon' under the river is being put through solid 
rock, where they do not have to bother with pneumatic 
pressure. Why, it is just because they wanted solid rock 
that they had to go so deep. This tunnel is being built to 
last forever. Nothing short of an earthquake can hurt it, 
and the chances of an earthquake in New York are pretty 
slim, according to what geologists tell us." 

"It seems to me it Is pretty dangerous work," put in 
Bill. "Suppose they should strike a break in the rock. Just 
think with what pressure the water would pour in! They 
would drown there like rats." 

"You may be sure they thought of that before they 
started excavating. Borings were made to find out what 
sort of rock they had to go through. First they started 
boring from a scow anchored in the middle of the river. 
They had all sorts of trouble, too. Once a string of canal- 
boats banged up against the scow and broke it from its 
mooring, smashing the drill. Then another time the ice 
carried the scow off. Finally, they gave it up after drilling 
down seven or eight hundred feet without coming across 
anything but an occasional boulder. It seemed as if that 



Quenching a City's Thirst. 



127 



1500 ft- 




128 With the Men Who Do Things, 

river had no bottom at all. At any rate, it was not worth 
while trying to reach it from so unsteady a base as a scow, 
so, instead, they began drilling on a slant from each side of 
the river, at such an angle that the drill holes would meet 
at a depth of about fifteen hundred feet below the middle 
of the river. The drills went through rock all the way, 
and no water was struck. So then they bored another pair 
of test holes that met at a depth of nine hundred and fifty 
feet, going through solid rock all the way. That decided 
them that it would be perfectly safe to run the siphon 
through at the eleven hundred-foot level." 

"How do you happen to know so much about the mat- 
ter?" we inquired. 

"Oh, I am just a taxpayer, but I like to know what I am 
paying for with my taxes ; and then, too, I take a civic pride 
in New York's big undertakings." 

"Jim, we've got to go up and see that work," said Bill. 

"There is a good deal to interest you right here, too," 
continued the stranger. "Do you know the tunnel at this 
shaft is two hundred and fifty feet below the surface? And 
it goes right down the Island of Manhattan at about that 
same depth, and then it goes under the East River, dipping 
down to a depth of over seven hundred and fifty feet, just 
so as to keep in solid rock all the way." 

"But why don't they put pipes down?" 

"There are lost of reasons. They would cost more. Two 
or three pipes would be necessary because a single pipe to 
carry all that water would be out of the question, and then 




IN THE TUNNEL 1 100 FEET BELOW THE HUDSON RIVER. 




BORING WITH A DIAMOND DRILL IN THE HUDSON RIVER SIPHON. 




DRILLS SET UP AT A TUNNEL HEADING. 




"holed through'' from one shaft to another. 



Quenching a City's Thirst. 129 

there would be the expense of flexible joints, which would 
have to be strong enough to carry the pressure, and to keep 
the pipes from breaking under the drag of the tide. Oh, 
yes, pipes would involve constant care to keep them from 
breaking or rusting through. I don't believe you realize 
what an enormous pressure of water there will be In this 
rock tunnel. Why, in the down-toyvn section, the pressure 
will be enough to send the water up to the top of a twenty- 
five-story building without pumping. In fact, the pumping 
stations around the city now will no longer be necessary." 

We must have spent an hour or more with this chance 
acquaintance, discussing the wonderful work on this tre- 
mendous engineering undertaking. We got so excited over 
the miatter that we started down-town at once to visit Mr. 
Price, and get a letter of introduction to the chief engineer 
of the aqueduct. We were most anxious to go up the Hud- 
son and see for ourselves the work on the great siphon. 
We thought it would be quite a stunt to go down a thousand 
feet under ground. 

When, a couple of days later, we stepped off a train at 
the little station of Storm King, we found the work there 
in progress even more remarkable than we had imagined It. 
The shafts at each side of the river had been sunk to their 
full depth, and the "headings" had been pushed so far that 
there was only about a hundred feet more of rock to cut 
through. 

The trip down that shaft seemed never-ending, and when 
JVC looked up from the bottom, the opening at the top 



130 With the Men Who Do Things, 

showed as a tiny patch of hght "no bigger than a quarter," 
as Bill described it. 

"I suppose the atmosphere here is quite considerably 
denser than on the surface," said Bill, puckering up his lips 
to see whether he could whistle. 

"Don't!" shouted the superintendent, leaping forward 
and clapping his hand over Bill's mouth. 

"Wha — what's the matter?" gasped Bill, in astonishment. 

"Simply this: our miners on this work are all southern 
Negroes, and a more superstitious lot you couldn't find 
anywhere. They have a strange notion that if any one 
whistles under ground, bad luck is sure to follow. More 
than once they've quit work because of some silly supersti- 
tion. Why, they stampeded out of the tunnel a couple of 
weeks ago, merely because a lady visitor came down to see 
the work. That meant bad luck, sure, and nothing could 
induce them to go to work again until the next day." 

After our previous whistling experience, we were inclined 
to think that this was another joke on us, but when we asked 
some other engineers about it, we were assured that it was 
a fact. 

At the bottom of the shaft, there was an electric "dinky" 
(locomotive) and a couple of "muck" cars. We climbed 
into one of the cars, and, at a signal to the "dinky skinner" 
(locomotive engineer), we were off. The moisture in the 
tunnel made such a thick fog that we could not see anything 
but the faint glow of the electric lamps, strung at infrequent 
intervals along the roof. Once in a while we passed the 



Quenching a City's Thirst. 131 

shadowy form of a workman, drawing back at the warning 
of our gong to let us pass. At first, all sounds were 
drowned out by the noise of our train, which echoed 
strangely in that long rock cavern, but gradually another 
sound rose above the din, a sound that grew louder until 
it became deafening. Then our train stopped, and we 
jumped out to watch the drill gang at work. The racket 
was of a throbbing nature most distressing to the ears, and 
very trying on the nerves. Altogether, there must have 
been half a dozen drills, all going at once, pounding their 
steels Into the rock like a riveting-hammer, at the rate of 
about 400 blows per rminute. Once I visited a boiler-shop, 
and thought that the noise there was about as distressing as 
any noise could be, but that was quiet compared to this 
racket. Under the rapid blows the rock under the steels 
was reduced to a fine powder, which, in the case of all 
holes which slanted downward, was washed out by streams 
of water. 

Before we went down the shaft, the superintendent ex- 
plained just how the holes were arranged (see Fig. 10). 
The upper half, or "heading" of the tunnel, was run about 
twenty yards in advance of the lower half, or "bench," so 
as to facilitate matters and let the two drill gangs work at 
the same time. It is comparatively easy to blast away the 
"bench," because the "shot" holes are drilled downward 
from the flat upper surface, and when the dynamite is set 
off it splits away the rock in slabs; but in the case of the 
"heading," a special arrangement of "shot" holes is neces- 



132 



With the Men Who Do Things. 




sary, because the rock can be 
attacked only from the face. 
The first thing to be done is 
to remove a wedge, or "cut," 
from the center of the "head- 
ing"; two rows of holes are 
driven in at an angle so that 
they will meet, or nearly meet, 
at a depth of about eight 
feet back from the face of the 
rock. After this wedge has 
been blasted out it is not so 
difficult to split out the rest 
of the heading. At each side 
of the "cut" a row of "relief" 
holes is drilled, and finally a 
set of "liners" that slant 
outward to some extent, 
so that the rock will be 
shattered to the full 
diameter of the tunnel. 
Of course, all these holes 
are drilled at once, and then the cut is 
blasted out first, then the "relief" holes, 
and, finally, the "liners." 

The bench-drills were mounted on tri- 
pods so that they could drill vertically, but 
the drills at the heading were carried on 



Quenching a City's Thirst. 133 

two posts or columns that were tightly wedged between the 
bench and the rock roof overhead by means of jack-screws. 
There were three "engines" on each column, so mounted 
that they could be turned in any desired direction. We 
watched one of them starting a hole on a shelving piece of 
rock. The steel was pounding with short, quick strokes, 
trying to hammer out a seat for itself, while sparks were 
dancing around the drill point. After a while, when a 
sufficient hollow had been pounded in the rock, the steel 
began to strike with longer and longer blows, until it 
reached a full seven-Inch stroke. The exhausts of the drills 
were coated with something white and glistening. One of 
the men scraped off a bit of the stuff and handed it to me. 
It was frost ! I stared in astonishment ! We couldn't, com- 
fortably, do any talking down there, but when finally we got 
back 'to the surface, the superintendent explained It to us 
as follows : 

"These drills are run by air compressed to one hundred 
pounds per square Inch, When that air is compressed, up 
at the pumping station. It gets so hot that it blisters all the 
paint off the comipressors, where they are not protected by 
water-jackets; in fact, it gets so hot that we cannot bring it 
to the full one hundred pounds at once, but have to com- 
press it in two stages, and cool it off between stages. You 
know how It is with a bicycle pump, don't you? It gets so 
hot that you can scarcely bear your hand on the cylinder, 
just from the heat that is developed in compressing the air. 
Well, this compressed air we use has to be cooled, before 



134 With the Men Who Do Things. 

we bring it down into the tunnel, by passing it through ra- 
diators and water- or air-cooled cylinders. But if air gives 
off heat when it is compressed, very naturally it has to 
absorb heat again when it is expanding, so as to regain 
what it lost before. It absorbs so much heat out of its 
surroundings, that any moisture it contains is condensed, 
and settles as frost around the exhaust-port. In fact, if 
we don't watch carefully, it is likely to freeze the parts 
fast." 

We went down the shaft again later, to watch the charg- 
ing of the holes after the drilling was completed. The 
drill boss began first with his "cut" holes. The dynamite 
cartridges were about eight inches long and an inch and a 
half in diameter, wrapped in paper tubes. The man would 
take a stick of the dynamite, or "powder," as miners call 
all explosives, place it in the hole, and press it home with 
a wooden ramrod, so that the paper wrapper would burst 
open, and the soft, putty-like stuff would be mashed out to 
fill the hole completely. Other sticks of dynamite were then 
put in, each being rammed up against the preceding one. 
In one of the sticks he jabbed a wooden m^rlinespike, to 
make a hole for the detonating cap. After sticking the 
cap in place and fastening it with a half-hitch of the electric 
wires around the cartridge, he rammed it up against the 
rest of the dynamite, then put in a few more sticks, and 
finally closed the hole with a cartridge filled with sand. 
Extra heavy charges are always necessary to remove the 
"cut." About ten or a dozen sticks were used to each hole. 



Quenching a City's Thirst. 135 

The wires to the detonating caps protruded from the holes, 
and the foreman connected them to a pair of Hne-wires that 
ran back to a bulkhead, or strong oaken shelter, about 
300 feet away. When everything was ready, the men would 
hide behind this bulkhead while the boss did the "shoot- 
ing" by closing an electric switch. 

The -superintendent thought it a little too dangerous for 
us to stay there, so we went all the way back to the shaft. 
As we were on our way, there was a sudden crash that 
sounded like a pistol shot directly overhead. Bill and I 
both jumped a yard. We thought the dynamite had ex- 
ploded. The superintendent only laughed at us. 

"That is nothing but the flaking of a piece of rock over- 
head," he explained; "you must remember that we are going 
through rock that was made ages ago, and is under enormous 
pressure. When we cut a big hole through rock of this 
kind, the pressure is relieved to some extent, and the rock 
actually expands into the bore. This movement results in 
flaking off pieces now and then. We have had flakes 
weighing all the way from a few ounces to a couple of 
hundred pounds. When the first pieces flaked off, the 
workmen were badly frightened, and all stampeded. As I 
told you before, they are a very superstitious lot. After 
a while, the reports became so frequent and the fall of 
stones so dangerous, that we had to do something to protect 
the men. You see, we have a wooden sheathing just under 
the roof of the rock to catch these unexpected missiles. It 
seems odd, doesn't it, that the power back of those missiles 



136 With the Men Who Do Things. 

was put there millions of years ago, when the rock was hot 
and began cooling and contracting." 

By the timie he finished talking, we reached the shaft and 
were carried up to the surface. Suddenly, a boom and a 
dull roar told us that the powder had done Its job down 
there deep In the rock. We were anxious to see what the 
shot had accomplished, but we were not permitted to go 
In again. 

"Don't you know that the fumes of 'shooting' are poison- 
ous?" asked the superintendent. 

"But how about the men?" I asked. "Won't It kill them, 
too?" 

"We pump air In there to blow the fumes out. In about 
five minutes, they can go back and charge the "relief" 
holes. But if you went in there. It would give you an 
awful headache. The men get used to It, but In time even 
they are liable to be overcome. By the way, you ought to 
see how they store dynamite in New York. It is interesting. 
The Bureau of Co-mbustlbles will not let any one keep a 
large quantity of explosives in the city, particularly in con- 
gested parts, but at each shaft they use from seven to eight 
hundred pounds of powder per day, so they have under- 
ground magazines hewn out of solid rock. When you go 
back to town, call on rfiy friend Douglas, at Shaft 13, and 
he will show you one of the magazines and how it is con- 
structed." 




A ROOF OF STEEL WHERE THE ROCK IS SHAKY. 




A SUBTERRANEAN STREAM THAT KEEPS THE PUMPS BUSY. 




RAMMING THE POWDER INTO THE SHOT HOLES. 




ENTRANCE TO THE DYNAMITE CHAMBER. 



CHAPTER XV. 
CAGING DYNAMITE. 

The shaft of which Mr. Douglas was the superintendent 
was the very one we had first seen In the park, and now, 
with Mr. Douglas as our guide, we stepped into the cage 
that we had watched from the bridge, and plunged down 
250 feet below the surface. At one side of the tunnel, 
about one hundred feet from the shaft, there was a heavy 
mass of concrete with a low doorway in it. The opening 
was closed by a light, outer door, consisting of a wooden 
frame covered with chicken wire, alongside which a man 
stood- on guard. Back of this there was a very massive 
door that was then ajar, at an angle of forty-five degrees j 
a pin in the floor kept it from opening any more than that. 
Mr. Douglas led us past these doors Into a large passage- 
way cut out of the solid rock. A few yards from the door 
the passageway turned abruptly at right angles to the left; 
then a few yards farther It made another turn, but to the 
right; a few paces more brought us to a large chamber that 
extended to the left again. At each turn of the passageway, 
there was a pocket cut in the rock in the opposite direction 
from the turn. In the chamber, which measured about 
sixteen feet high and over thirty feet long by twenty-six 
feet wide, there were fifteen or twenty cases of dynamite, 

137 



138 With the Men Who Do Things. 

over which was a timber roof as a guard against any pieces 
of stone that might be dislodged from the rock overhead 
and fall on the powder. 

"Did you ever smell dynamite?" said Mr. Douglas, pick- 
ing up a stick and holding it under miy nose. I jumped 
back In alarm. "Oh, it won't hurt you!" he said reassur- 
ingly, "but if you smell of that sickish stuff awhile, It will 
give you a headache. Now if this powder should go off 
" Mr. Douglas paused. 

"Yes?" I said nervously, 

"Oh, we do not expect such a thing ever to happen, but 
you never can quite tell about dynamite. . If It isn't per- 
fectly fresh, it might go off if you sneezed upon It. You 
know dynamite is made of nitroglycerin and gelatin. The 
gelatin holds the nitroglycerin as a sponge holds water. 
When It is exposed to extremes of heat and cold and moist- 
ure, the glycerin separates from the gelatin, and collects In 
little bubbles that are extremely sensitive and will go off 
with scarcely any provocation. 

"I remember once," continued Mr. Douglas, "when I 
was a young lad, my brother and I were anxious to try our 
hand at shooting. Father was a contractor, and was doing 
a job out In Oregon, and we boys worked there, with the 
men. Well, as I was saying, one day when the men were 
off at lunch, we went to the dynamite house and got out a 
case of dynamite. The heading was all ready for the pow- 
der, and we thought we could shoot it just as well as any 
one else. I carried the case of dynamite over to the shaft 



Caging Dynamite. 139 

while my brother was getting the fuses. When I got to 
the shaft, the bucket was up at the top, near enough, as I 
thought, for me to reach over and put the case of dynamite 
on it, even though it did weigh fifty pounds. However, as 
I leaned over the edge of the shaft, I kicked against a pick 
or a shovel that lay in my way, and this hit the bucket and 
pushed it out of my reach; but I had leaned so far that It 
was impossible for me to regain mly equilibrium, and I had 
the alternative of dropping the fifty pounds of dynamite, or 
falling down the shaft with it. It didn't take me a second 
to make my choice, and then, as the case shot down the 
shaft, I ran. Yes, I did some real running. My brother 
saw me running, took one glance at my face, and then he 
also ran some. So did the engineer of the hoisting-engine. 
The shaft wasn't more than one hundred and eighty feet 
deep,- but we ran long enough for that dynamite to have 
dropped ten times as far. Then we stopped to collect our 
wits. Well, sir, that powder never went off! When my 
father heard about it the next day, he made it the text 
of a sermon. All the men were lined up to hear his speech, 
and it certainly made an impression upon me. 'I want you 
to understand,' says he, 'that dynamite is dangerous stuff 
to handle, even though a case of it did fall one hundred and 
eighty feet without exploding. It is dangerous stuff, I tell 
you, and should always be treated with respect. After that 
incident of yesterday, you may get the notion that all this 
talk about the danger of dynamite is mere nonsense, but, 
let me tell you, that dynamite was perfectly fresh. Two 



140 With the Men Who Do Things. 

or three months from now that very same powder will be 
so touchy that you cannot drop a pebble on it without setting 
it off. The only way to handle dynamite safely is to treat 
it with due respect always, because you never can tell in just 
what condition it is.' 

"Well, as I was saying, If this powder here should hap- 
pen to go off," resumed Mr. Douglas, with exasperating 
deliberation, "the explosion wave would smash into that 
pocket at the other end of the chamber, where it would 
come up against a wall of solid rock; then it would have 
to go off at right angles down the passage, where it would 
find itself in another pocket; again it would have to dart at 
right angles, only to dash into the third pocket, and by the 
time it found its way out to the door, it would have lost 
much of its energy, and it would hit the door with a gentle 
shove of something like five hundred and forty tons, 
or about one million pounds. It sounds like a long story, 
but It would all happen like that," and he snapped his 
fingers. "The door would slam shut, and the poisonous 
fumes would be trapped Inside without any way of escaping. 
You can get some Idea of the energy of dynamite when I 
tell you that the gases will exert a steady pressure of one 
hundred and fifty pounds per square Inch on every square 
Inch of the chamber In passage until they cool down. In 
other words, the powder which In the solid state occupied 
less than fifteen cubic feet, will be turned into a compressed 
gas occupying twenty thousand cubic feet. When the gases 
cool down sufficiently, we can force them out with com- 



Caging Dynamite. 141 

pressed air. So you see we can let the powder explode 
without injuring anybody except the magazine tender. There 
wouldn't be much left of him, I fear. But the men outside 
would not be in danger, and the busy city two hundred and 
fifty feet above would scarcely know that anything had 
happened." 

"But," said Bill, who had been by no means convinced, 
"I thought nothing could stand up against such a quantity 
of dynamite. I don't see how any door can hold it." 

"Do you know," said Mr. Douglas, "there is more energy 
in a pound of gasolene than in a pound of dynamite? But 
here is the difference, gasolene combustion is comparatively 
slow, while the chief value of dynamite is the suddenness of 
its explosion. It is chiefly that first explosion wave that we 
must guard against, and so we make it dash itself against 
the rock walls until it is pretty well spent. This door here" 
(we had come to the end of the passageway by this time) 
"is made to stand twice the pressure that we estimate it will 
be subjected to. See, it is built of heavy steel I-beams, with 
oak timbers twelve inches square between them; and then 
the doorway is set in an enormous mass of concrete. Oh, 
no, it could not possibly give way." 

"But have you tried it?" asked Bill. 

"Oh, yes, we exploded half a dozen sticks just around 
the first bend, and it slammed the door shut, nicely, and 
the drain here — but I haven't shown you that yet." There 
was a gutter running down the center of the rock floor to 
the passage to carry off any moisture that might seep in. 



142 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"We have to run that drain through to the outside, and 
that ventilating pipe you see overhead also has to have 
some connection with the outside, and so we have an open- 
ing under that plate in the floor and a tapered plug hanging 
on a guide rod just in front of the opening. Well, as I was 
saying, when the powder went off, it drove that plug into 
the drain so hard that we had to use a hydraulic jack to 
force it out." 

"But," persisted Bill, "you have never exploded a full 
charge of one thousand pounds, have you?" 

Mr. Douglas laughed. "Look here, young man, you 
would make a pretty good lawyer. No, we have never tried 
it here, but in Europe, where the idea originated, because 
they have to do so much mining right under large towns, 
fully as much powder as that was set off once without the 
slightest damage to anything outside. There was a small 
car In front of the door of the magazine, but it was not in 
the least affected by the explosion." 

It was wonderful, and I was gl'ad we had seen it, but 
all the same it was a decided relief to step out of that 
deadly chamber. 

Just as we emerged from the magazine, the lights In the 
tunnel began to wink slowly once, twice, three times. 

"Hello !" exclaimed Mr. Douglas, "that is the signal to 
hunt for cover. They are going to shoot the heading in 
half a minute. We had better step Into the magazine to be 
sure that no flying pieces of rock hit us." 

"The magazine!" I cried in astonishment. Of all places 





■HttOBBl^B 




'another TiLAST CAME OUT OF THE MAGAZINE BEHIND ME." See page 143- 



Caging Dynamite. 143 

on earth that was the last I would ever seek as a refuge 
from a blast, but I was hustled Into the place before I had 
time to make any protest. 

When we got inside I expected them to shut the door. 
In fact, Bill and I both tried to shut the door because we 
knew there was no time to lose, as Mr. Douglas had said 
that the shot would be fired in half a minute after the signal. 
But he motioned us to desist. "We never close that door. 
That counterweight is put there for the very purpose of 
holding the door open," he said, pointing to a rope that ran 
from the top of the door over a pulley on the wall, and 
was attached to a heavy iron weight. 

Imagine our feelings. Forced to seek shelter in a cave 
charged with dynamite, a thousand pounds of it! What 
was to prevent the shock from setting it off ? and then where 
would we be? A thousand thoughts chased through my 
brain in the brief moment before the explosion came. 

It is a curious thing about blasting, that the sound travels 
through the rock much faster than it does through the air, 
and so there is always a warning crack an instant before 
the crash of the air wave reaches the ear. Just before the 
warning sound camie, the superintendent shouted something 
that I didn't catch; but I saw him grab at his hat, and I 
followed his example, not a moment too soon. The next 
instant, I was engulfed in a terrific roar of noise and a 
rush of wind that all but swept me over on my back. But 
as I reeled, another blast came out of the magazine behind 
me, and pitched me forward. I thought for the moment 



144 With the Men Who Do Things. 

that the dynamite had been exploded by the concussion, and 
I made for the door. I was conscious that the door actually 
swayed forward a bit, and then settled back under the pull 
of the counterweight. Then I saw the superintendent laugh- 
ing, but he was laughing at Bill, and not at me, thank 
Heaven. Bill had not been quick enough to grab his hat. 
The explosion wave had carried it off his head, and sent 
it sailing around the zigzag passageway of the magazine, 
but — and that was what the superintendent was laughing 
at — the return wave coming out of the magazine brought 
the cap sailing back and dropped it at his feet! 

"That is the beauty of this magazine," laughed the super- 
intendent, picking up the dirty, bedraggled cap and handing 
it to Bill. "If you had been out in the tunnel, your cap 
would have sailed off. Heaven knows where, and it might 
have taken you all day to find It. But here in the magazine 
it is sure to come back on the return wave. Even though 
it may be a bit dirty, you will always get your headgear 
back again. But we better get out of this before the smoke 
gets too thick." Already the smell of the fumes was quite 
noticeable, as they were being driven out by the air that was 
being pumped to the heading. 

It is a curious fact that when one is going through great 
dangers, whether real or imaginary, the mind is not Infre- 
quently impressed with minor details which come back very 
vividly to a person when he has time to think over his ex- 
periences. While I was imagining all the horrors of death 
in the magazine, my eyes took in a very queer phenom- 



J 



Caging Dynamite. 145 

enon. It all came back to me as we were going up in the 
cage to the surface. When the first explosion wave struck 
us, it had seemed as if I could actually see the air wave rush 
into the passageway like a foggy cloud, and dash into the 
still air about me. But the strangest part was that, as it 
appeared to hit the still air, drops of water seemed to form 
under the electric lamp where I was standing, and fall like 
a scattering rain to the ground. 

When I mentioned it to the superintendent, he did not 
think I was crazy, but told me that my fleeting impression 
was a fact. 

"Yes," he said, "on a damp day such as this, you can 
actually see water squeezed out of the moist air if you 
happen to be standing In a very good light." 



CHAPTER XVI. 
A LIFE-SAVING FALL. 

Hanging in Mr. Douglass' office were some blue prints 
that showed the course of the aqueduct through the heart of 
Manhattan and under the East River to Brooklyn. One 
was a sectional view showing the depth of the tunnel under 
the surface. This puzzled us not a little because the depth 
seemed out of all proportion to the length of the tunnel. 
For instance, the East River looked like a very narrow 
stream, not half as wide as the depth of the tunnel passing 
under. 

"The East River must surely be half a mile wide/' re- 
marked Bill, and if so it looks as if the aqueduct were a 
mile and a half under ground. That can't be right, can it?" 

"Don't you see the scales on the blue print?" repHed Mr. 
Douglass. "There are two of them, one for length, 2,000 
feet to the inch, and the other for depth, 100 feet to the 
Inch. If the length were drawn on the same scale as the 
depth there would not be room enough on this wall for the 
map. It would be about 30 feet long. On the other hand, 
if the depth were drawn on the same scale as the length it 
would be impossible to tell slight variations. For instance, 
a drop of 10 feet would be actually but 1/200 of an inch, 
which wouldn't show at all. Engineers always exaggerate 

146 




THE HIGHEST BUILDING IN NEW YORK AND THE DEEPEST SHAFT. 










COLLAPSIBLE FORMS FOR CONCRETING THE AQUEDUCT TUNNEL. 



A Life-saving Fall. 147 

depths at the expense of lengths so that they will show to 
good advantage." 

"Do they really?" asked Bill In astonishment. "I thought 
engineers never exaggerated anything, but always stuck to 
the honest facts." 

"You can hardly call It dishonest when the scale is always 
there,. right before you, on the map." 

"There Is something I can't understand," I broke in. 
"The tunnel seems to be deepest under Manhattan, instead 
of under the river. It actually rises on the way under the 
river." 

"Yes, and there is a geological story connected with that. 
Ages ago, so geologists tell us, the East River lay over what 
Is now the *East Side' of Manhattan, and it had a very 
deep channel, as can be seen by the outline of the rock over 
here," pointing to the right of the East River. "Then the Ice 
Age came on. Great glaciers slowly crept down out of the 
north and invaded this region, working havoc with the land- 
scape. The old bed of the river was obliterated. Enormous 
masses of earth and rock scraped up by the advancing ice 
filled it up and the East River had to make a new channel 
for itself on a ledge of rock to the eastward. If we had 
only the present bed to deal with, the tunnel could safely 
be run at a 400-foot depth, but it Is the old river bed that 
makes us go down 750 feet below the surface. 

"By the way, I picked this up in a magazine the other 
day," Mr. Douglass continued, turning to a scrap book. 'Tt 
gives you some idea of the depth of the tunnel at this point." 



148 



With the Men Who Do Things. 






ti\UVMS- 



^JVHS'^%^ 



^» 



tZ .IJVHS, 



b:4-^ 



: w 






The picture showed a tall office 
building inverted and built from 
the ground level downward. 

"I suppose you recognize that 
as the tallest office building in 
the world, 750 feet high. That 
happens to be the depth of the 
tunnel under the street level at 
shaft 20. It is quite a coincidence 
that you can go down as far as 
you can go up in this city." 

"Say, we must go down that 
shaft, Bill," I exclaimed. "Can 
we, Mr. Douglass?" 

"It's not in our section of the 
work," he replied, "but I am 
sure you will not have any 
trouble. Jack Patterson, over at 
shaft 20, is a fine chap, and he'll 
fix it up for you." 

"How do you get there?" 
asked Bill. 

Mr. Douglass pointed to the 
map showing the course of the 
tunnel and told us what cars we 
should take. 

"Is that the course of the 
aqueduct?" I asked, pointing 



I 

A Life-saving Fall. 149 

to the heavy line that zigzagged across the city. "Why does 
It take so many turns?" 

"It has to follow the streets, you know, so as to keep off 
private property." 

"Private property; 750 feet underground!" 

"Why yes. If you own a lot you own It down to the 
center of the earth. If we should run across your slice of 
the earth, a half a mile or a hundred miles under ground, 
you could sue us for trespassing. Some day people may stop 
building from the ground up and start from the street level 
down; then they would not like to run Into the aqueduct, 
even though It were a seventh of a mile under the surface. 

"By the way, how would you like to see some of our con- 
creting work. You know this hole through the rock Is to be 
lined with a thick layer c5 concrete so as to make a smooth- 
surfaced concrete tube for the water to run through. We 
are putting in the lining In a new way. I think you would 
be Interested to see It." /" y 

"Certainly, we should." ^ 

"A little further downtown," explained Mr. Douglass, as 
we proceeded out of the office to the street car, "we have 
'holed' through from one shaft to the adjacent shaft on 
each side, and there we have set up our concreting forms." 

At the shaft to which Mr. Douglass lead us, there was a 
rather elaborate concreting plant. It was situated In a city 
square and was enclosed by a board fence. Projecting far 
above the fence was a wooden tower that looked something 
like a grain elevator. Near the top cement was stored and 



150 



With the Men Who Do Things. 



below side by side were two main storage bins, one for sand 
and the other for gravel. Right in front of these storage 
bins were two smaller "service" bins and below them was 
the concrete mixing machine. Figure 1 2 shows the arrange- 




SAMD ;\:„i /-cHOre^^^ 



FIG. 12. THE CONCRETING PLANT. 



ment, also the elevator for carrying the cement bags to the 
top of the tower and the conveyers for the sand and gravel. 
By moving a lever the sand or gravel could be turned either 
into the main storage bin, or into the smaller service bin. 



A Life-saving Fall. 151 

When the material ran low in the service bin gates were 
opened at the bottom of the storage bin and the conveyor 
carried up the material to replenish the service supply. 
From the service bins the sand and gravel were led down 
to a concrete mixing machine where they were mixed with 
proper proportions of cement and water, after which the 
material was delivered to cars which carried the liquid con- 
crete down in the elevator cages. 

We went down In an empty cage for fear of being 
splashed with concrete. Then we scrambled over the ties 
of the "dinkey" railroad to the concreting forms. 

Along the bottom of the tunnel was laid a segment of 
concrete lining, which Mr. Douglass called the "invert." 
The drawing opposite page 147 shows the form of the in- 
vert. It was put In before the concreting forms were erected 
and. provided a roadway on which the forms traveled. The 
forms were two semi-cylindrical sections of steel plating, 
one for the upper half or "arch" of the tunnel, and the other 
for the lower half or "side walls." (See Figs. 13 to 15.) 
The two parts were set one in advance of the other. A plat- 
form, providing a floor for the arch form adjoined a second 
platform which served as a roof for the side wall form. 

At the time of our visit the men were working on the 
upper form, and the incline led up to the platform. Up 
this the cars laden with wet concrete were hauled. Mr. 
Douglass explained that when they were working on the 
lower half the Incline could be lifted up, as shown by dotted 
lines in Figure 15, and the cars passed under It to the side 



152 



With the Men Who Do Things, 




A Life-saving Fall. 153 

wall form. Filling the lower form was a simple matter. 
The concrete was merely poured between the steel shell and 
the rock until it filled the space up to the "spring line," or 
middle line of the tunnel. To keep the stuff from pouring 
out at the end of the form before it set, small pieces of 
board were temporarily nailed against the edge of the form 
and fitted as neatly as possible against the rock. The lower 
half of the tunnel was concreted in advance of the upper 
half, so that the top of the side walls would provide a foot- 
ing for the concrete poured into the arch section. 

Concreting the arch was a more difficult process. A sec- 
tion of plating was removed from the top cf the form and 
the concrete was shoveled in through the opening. It was 
necessary to use stiffer concrete for this work than that used 
for the side walls. Men had to climb in between the shell 
of the form and the rock to shovel the concrete into all the 
cr-evices. When the space was nearly all filled the section 
of plating was restored to its position and the concrete was 
shoveled in from the end. At the very top of the tunnel 
pipes were left embedded in the concrete, through which, 
later, "grout" or a mixture of clear cement and water could 
be forced under high pressure to fill up every crack and 
crevice, making the lining perfectly sound. 

"After this concrete hardens we are going to slide the 
forms forward." 

"What, those heavy things?" I asked in astonishment. 

"Yes, they are mounted on wheels, don't you see?" and 
Mr. Douglass pointed to a pair of wide rimmed wheels 



154 With the Men Who Do Things. 

tapered to fit the invert. "First we collapse the forms" — 
and he went on to explain how by screwing up certain 
turnbuckles (B, Fig. 13) the shells could be drawn inward. 
Figure 13 shows the side wall form collapsed so that the 
upper edges are drawn away sightly from the finished wall. 
When- this was done the form was raised on the trucks by 
screwing up the jacks E (Fig. 14). 

The arch form was lowered by screwing up the turn- 
buckles shown at A in the drawing facing page 147, and 
operating jacks to lower the form until it cleared the arch. 
Thus freed from the concrete, the forms could be moved to 
a new position so that the arch form would overlie the side 
walls just completed. 

Many a visit we paid to the aqueduct, all along the line. 
There was a great deal of sameness about what we saw and 
it would hardly be worth while to recount all our experi- 
ences. But there were two events worthy of note, one of 
which happened in the deep shaft, of which Jack Patterson 
was the Superintendent. He took us around himself. 

While we were waiting at the shaft, a cage came up 
bringing a man who had been hurt. I could see that his 
cheek was badly gashed and he looked rather weak. A 
companion conducted him to the doctor's office. Then we 
stepped into the cage and went swiftly down to the bottom. 
Our trip down the shaft and Into the tunnel, which had not 
proceeded very far at that time, developed nothing very 
startling. We had been more than 750 feet underground 
in the Hudson siphon, but we wanted to be able to tell 




REINFORCEMENT FOR A CAISSON AT ONE OF THE SHAFTS. 




LOOKING DOWN A DEEP AQUEDUCT SHAFT. 




SECTION OF THE TUNNTEL WITH SIDE WALLS CONCRETED. 




THE CAGE AT THE BOTTOM OF A SHAFT. 



A Life-saving Fall. 155 

people that we had been as far under New York streets as 
above them. When we returned to the shaft a cage was 
just coming down with two men In It, facing our way. As 
they stepped off one of them, who was the foreman of the 
drill gang, turned, casually, and looked behind him. Then 
he started. In alarm, and shouted "Where's Tony?" 

"Who's Tony?" asked Mr. Patterson running up to see 
what was the matter. 

"Why, the fellow that was just up to see the doctor. He 
was in the cage when we started down. Must have fallen 
off," and he hastily signalled to have the cage raised, ex- 
pecting to find the mangled body of the man under It. 

But there was no sign of Tony there. 

"Who was the chap on top of the cage?" Inquired Bill. 

"Hey?" The Superintendent was getting excited. 

"Why, I thought I saw a man up there fixing the chains 
or something." 

Down came the cage in response to a frantic signal, and 
there sure enough huddled up on the covers that serve to 
protect men in the cage from articles that might drop down 
the shaft, lay Tony with his arm hooked around the hoisting 
cable. 

"Say, am I drunk or dreaming?" exclaimed the foreman 
holding his head. "That fellow was in the cage when we 
started down, wasn't he, Mike?" appealing to the man who 
had come down with him. 

"Sure, 01 saw him there, whin we wuz half way down. 
The Divil is in this," shaking his head. 



156 With the Men Who Do Things. 

Tony, limp with fright, was helped down and put through 
a cross-examination, but it was difficult to get a connected 
story from him, as he could speak but little English. Finally 
we made out that he had been standing close to the edge at 
the opposite side of the cage and, weakened by his injuries, 
had fainted when the cage was about half way down the 
shaft. That was all he knew until he discovered himself on 
top of the cage clinging to the chain. The only possible 
explanation was that he had fallen out, struck against the 
side of the shaft and bounced back again. In the meantime 
the cage had moved. on so that he landed on top. He must 
have seized the cables instinctively and clung there. The 
shaft was full of braces and timbering which he must very 
narrowly have escaped striking. So miraculous was the oc- 
currence that Mike continued to shake his head and walked 
off muttering, "The Divil wuz in ut; the Divil wuz in ut." 

"Well, if the Evil One is around here," laughed the Su- 
perintendent, "we had better hurry out. Why don't you 
go over to shaft 21 and see the concreting there?" 

"Oh, we saw the concreting in the tunnel at shaft 14," I 
answered. 

"But this is different," Mr. Patterson explained. "There 
they are concreting a horizontal tunnel, while at 21 it is a 
vertical shaft that they are concreting." 

"We'll have to see it then." I said. "Many thanks for 
the tip." 

When we arrived at shaft 21 something had happened 
which might have been a very serious accident had It not 



A Life-saving Fall. 157 

been for the presence of mind of one of the men. We 
found that the concreting was completed at the shaft and 
they were just removing the steel forms. The bottom of 
the shaft had been allowed to fill with water to a depth of 
about 25 feet. On a big platform several feet above the 
water a number of men were at work taking out the bolts 
that held the forms together and preparing them to be re- 
imoved. The platform on which they were working was 
ring-shaped, leaving a large opening in the center. 

About 30 feet above this platform, working on a very 
narrow scaffolding, was a man whose task it was to attach 
the form sections to a hoisting cable and to pry the sections 
away from the concrete so that they could be hauled up. He 
was working with an 8-pound hammer in one hand and a 
heavy iron bar in the other. As he attempted to pry a sec- 
tion loose. It gave suddenly and he lost his balance. Had he 
dropped his tools he could have seized a cable that was 
hanging from the tackle and saved himself from falling; 
but it occurred to him, like a flash, that if he dropped the 
8-pound hammer among the men 30 feet below him It 
would mean certain death to one or more of them. So, 
with rare presence of mind he clung to his tools, and as he 
reeled backward, gave a jump that dropped him through 
the opening in the lower scaffold and let him plunge 35 
feet down Into the black water below. Here he floundered 
around In the darkness until the men threw him a line and 
hauled him up. 

We were so thrilled with the story that we Insisted on 



158 With the Men Who Do Things. 

seeing the man and getting his version of It. But the fel- 
low would not talk at all. 

"Such things happen every day," he said. "I didn't do 
nothin' wonderful. You'd have done the same thing your- 
self." 






WATER AND SAND FILLING THE BINS OF THE SUCTION DREDGE. 




BOW OF A DREDGE AFTER COLLISION WITH A LINER. 



CHAPTER XVII. 
BOATS THAT DEVOUR MUD. 

Bill and I made a wonderful discovery one day. We 
found in process of construction, right at New York's front 
door, a great ship-canal, an enormous excavation one-third 
the size of the Panama Canal, but because the canal was 
submerged under the waters of New York Bay, it came in 
for very little attention on the part of the public. Even 
those who had heard of the Ambrose Channel had not the 
slightest idea of Its great size. 

We met one of the engineers who was In charge of that 
work at that memorable luncheon with Mr. Price. He 
Invited us down to see how the dredging was being done. 

"A tug goes down to the dredges every Wednesday," 
he said, "to carry mall and supplies, and If you will call at 
my office on any Wednesday before lo o'clock, I will give 
you a pass on the tug." 

The Invitation slipped my mind entirely, until one hot 
August morning, when there was not a breath of air 
stirring, and the heat of the city set us to planning a sea 
trip of some sort. 

"How about that Ambrose Channel trip?" I suggested. 
*'ThIs happens to be a Wednesday." 

"By George! I had forgotten all about that," answered 

159 



i6o With the Men Who Do Things. 

Bill. "However, I am not hankering after a dirty job 
like that." 

"But we promised Mr. Barlow we would come," I re- 
minded him, "and it would be rather shabby of us not to 
pay attention to his invitation." 

"Well, if it has got to be done, this is as good a time as 
any, I suppose. At any rate it will be cooler than anything 
we can do in the city." 

"He seemed to think we would find it rather interesting," 
I remarked. 

"Judging by what I have seen of dredging, there is not 
so very much to it, only a big clam shell bucket that scoops 
up vile-smelling black mud and dumps it into a scow along- 
side. I guess we had better put on our old clothes for this 
job. We'll have to hurry, too, if we are to get there before 
ten o'clock." 

The clock was just striking ten as we rushed into the 
Army Building on Whitehall Street and asked, breathlessly 
to be shown up to Mr. Barlow's office. We must have 
looked like tramps in our shabby old duds, our faces red 
as a beet, and the perspiration streaming from every pore. 

"Are we too late?" gasped Bill, as we burst into the 
room. 

"Eh? How's that?" exclaimed Mr. Barlow, in bewilder- 
ment, peering at us over his glasses. 

"Excuse me," stammered Bill, "youVe probably for- 
gotten us. We were introduced to you by Mr. Price, the 
engineer, some time ago, and you promised to let us see the 



Boats That Devour Mttd i6i 

Ambrose Channel work any Wednesday, if we got here 
before ten o'clock. It has just struck ten, and I'm afraid 
we are late." 

"Well, well, so you're the two boys I niet. I must con- 
fess I did not recognize you." 

"We do look rather mussed up," I explained, "we have 
our old clothes on, so we won't be afraid of the mud on 
the scows." 

Mr. Barlow leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily, 
although I didn't see why just then. "Ha, ha, ha ! Pre- 
pared for the worst, are you? Weill well I that's a good 
onel I never knew boys were so careful of their clothes. 
I guess you are not too late." He sent a boy downstairs to 
see whether Captain Wheeler had left the building yet. He 
was still chuckling to himself as he dictated a letter of 
introduction to the engineer on board the dredge. 

Fortunately for us. Captain Wheeler had not gone yet 
and inside of ten minutes we had our letter of introduction 
and were bound for Pier 12, where the tug was moored. 

Neither of us had ever before taken a trip in a tug boat, 
and so we found our excursion down the bay exceedingly 
interesting. We had so many questions to ask about navi- 
gation, signals, light buoys, whistling buoys, bell buoys, etc., 
that we must have nearly pestered the captain to death. 
Because we had been obliged to make a long stop at South 
Brooklyn to take on the mail and some provisions, the din- 
ner bell sounded long before we reached the dredges. Din- 
ner on board a tug was quite a novelty, and we enjoyed it 



1 62 With the Men Who Do Things. 

immensely. When we returned to the pilot house, the cap- 
tain pointed ahead. 

"There is one of the dredges." 

"Where?" we asked, straining our eyes, to make out 
something on the horizon. 

"Right there before you, about half a mile off," said the 
captain. 

"You don't mean that steamship?" asked Bill. 

"Why, yes; don't you know what a dredge looks like?'* 

"I have seen lots of dredges," I said, "but they didn't 
any of them look like that." 

"Oh, you're thinking of bucket dredges," said the captain. 
"We couldn't possibly use bucket dredges here. Every time 
a little storm came up, we would have to tow the dredge in, 
or else it would pound itself to pieces against the mud-scows. 
Bucket dredging is slow compared to this kind. These are 
suction dredges. The same difference as between taking 
a glass of soda-water in spoonfuls and drawing it up with 
a straw." . 

"But what do they do with the mud? Don't they have 
to have scows alongside?" 

"In the first place, it isn't mud, at least not much of it. 
It is mostly sand, and gravel. What a suction dredge 
devours goes into bins in her own hold, then it is taken 
out to sea and dumped. Do you see how low she is in the 
water? I guess they have just been waiting for us before 
putting out to sea to dump their load. I see the other 
dredge is over at Rockaway Inlet. I'll put you aboard this 



Boats That Devour Mud. 163 

dredge, and by the time I get back from Rockaway, you 
will have dumped your load and returned." 

In a few minutes we had come alongside the dredge and 
climbed over the rail to her deck. Then we felt heartily 
asham'ed of our old clothes, for everything on board was so 
spic and span. The tug captain called out to a Mr. Porter, 
who was the engineer on board, and consigned us to his 
care. The first thing we did was to apologize for our 
shabby looks. 

"Oho!" laughed Mr. Porter, "you thought you were 
going aboard a mud scow, did you? So that's the reputa- 
tion we have, and here we have always prided ourselves on 
our cleanliness. But even though this vessel gobbles thou- 
sands of tons of mud and sand, PU guarantee you won't 
find any of it outside of the bins. We are ready to go down 
to dinner now. Won't you have a bite with us?" 

*'No, thank you," we replied, "we have just had a first 
class meal on the tug." 

"Well, then, make yourselves at home, while we dine. 
You may wander around as much as you like and take In 
all you can, then after dinner, I will go around with you 
and answer questions." 

While Mr. Porter was gone, we walked about the deck, 
trying to understand this curious vessel. Just forward of 
the pilot-house, there was an enormous bin filled with sand. 
Some water was swishing back and forth over It as we rolled 
gently In the ocean swell. Aft there was another bin of the 
same size. The bins appeared to be divided Into com- 



164 With the Men Who Do Things. 

partments by means of partition walls, but we found later, 
when the bins were emptied, that this was merely the fram- 
ing at the top. Running lengthwise across each bin were 
two shafts connected by worm-gearing to a set of screw- 
shafts that ran vertically. There was also a large hand- 
wheel on each of the vertical screw-shafts. 

"I wonder how they dump this load?" 

"Why, I suppose they just run the pumps backward and 
disgorge the stuff," was Bill's wise reply. 

Presently, a couple of men came along. One had a stick 
with which he measured the average height of the sand in 
each compartment, while the other man jotted down the 
figures in a note-book, so as to determine the amount of sand 
in the bins. Then, much to our astonishment, the first man 
reached down into a puddle of water that overlay the 
sand, pulled out a good-sized fish, and laid it flapping on 
the deck. 

"Good to eat?" we asked him. 

"Pretty good," he said; Vit's a ling. We get lots of them. 
In fact, we get all the fish we care to eat. Big fellows, too, 
sometimes, all right fresh. We get plenty of lobsters, too. 
Didn't happen to catch any this haul, though." 

We noticed a number of large starfish clinging to the 
walls of the bin, and as the man moved off I reached over 
to get one as a souvenir. 

"Oh, look there!" exclaimed Bill suddenly, pointing to 
an object sticking out of the sand. Doesn't that look like 
a revolver?" 




'that looks like pirates now, doesn't it?" — See page 165. 



Boats That Devour Mud. 165 

"It surely does," I replied; "I wonder if the sand is 
firm enough to hold us." 

I tested it with my foot, and found it was as solid as a 
floor, so we both jumped over the side of the bin to pick 
up the curious object. A revolver it really was, an ugly- 
looking weapon, too, and pretty badly rusted. 

"Now, where in the world do you suppose that came 
from?" asked Bill, as he sat down on the edge of the bin 
to examine it. 

"Pirates!" I exclaimed. 

"It couldn't be pirates," returned Bill, "the gun is too 
modern for that." 

"Well, then, smugglers, maybe. Their boat has probably 
been wrecked here. I'll bet there's lots of treasure in this 
load of sand. Let's see what else we can find." 

We began poking in the sand with sticks. Presently I 
struck something hard and black. In another moment I 
had uncovered an Italian stiletto with curiously carved 
handle. 

"There," I said triumphantly, "that looks like pirates 
now, doesn't it? There is sure to be gold where you find 
pistols and knives." 

A loud laugh interrupted me. "Ha, ha, ha! So youVe 
got the gold fever, have you?" laughed Mr. Porter. 
"You've got your logic backward, young man; guns and 
knives are not an infallible sign of gold, but find your gold 
first, and then the firearms are sure to appear. We have 
found lots of firearms and daggers of every conceivable 



1 66 With the Men Who Do Things. 

form of ugliness, but as for treasure, It's mighty scarce, 
though I must admit that we have found some gold, too. 
It is too bad to spoil your romance, but there is no blood- 
curdling tale of piracy connected with those weapons, al- 
though, no doubt, they were once wielded by desperados. 
Some time ago, the police in New York got very busy, and 
started an active campaign against the carrying of concealed 
weapons. They rounded up the criminals and collected an 
enormous amount of junk. The only way of disposing of 
it was to throw it Into the sea, but Instead of taking it out 
to deep water, they -dumped it in the Lower Bay, right in 
the path of this channel we are now excavating." 

"But how about the gold?" I asked. 

"Now that Is not so easy to account for, but probably It 
happened in this way: A number of years ago, the garbage 
of the city used to be hauled out to sea in scows and dumped 
The work was done by contractors who were not overcareful 
to go as far as they were required to by the city authorities, 
and, when the patrol was not very vigilant, they would dump 
right into the bay. Now every one knows that valuable 
things sometimes find their way by accident Into the garbage 
pail. This being the case, some of them are sure to find 
their way into our bins. One of the men who has been 
working here ever since the excavating began, has made a 
wonderful collection of coins. He has money from every 
part of the world — -"Spanish, Italian, Turkish, Chinese — and 
I don't know what not. Only the other day he picked up 
a silver crucifix. When you realize that we only find what 



Boats That Devour Mud. 167 

appears on the surface in the bins, you can imagine what 
a lot of careless people there are in a big city." 

"I should think you would have some way of straining 
out the stuff," remarked Bill; "there must be a mint of 
money in it." 

"It wouldn't be worth while. It would cost far more 
money than would ever be recovered. By the way, you had 
better get out of that bin now; we are pretty close to our 
dumping-ground. We have to dump in water that is at least 
ninety feet deep." 

Presently, there was a rattle of machinery. The two 
worm-shafts began to turn, making the large hand-wheels 
rotate slowly, and feeding the screw-shafts downward. 

"They are just 'cracking' the load," explained Mr. 
Porter, "to see that everything is all right before dumping." 

"'Cracking?'" we exclaimed. 

"Yes, they have just slightly opened the gates in the 
bottom of the bins to see that they are not stuck, so that, 
when we dump the load, all the gates will operate together." 

"But you don't mean to tell us that you dump that stuff 
out through the bottom of the boat?" 

"Certainly, I do." 

"But why doesn't the boat sink when you let the water 
in?" 

"That's a foolish question," said Mr. Porter. "Stop and 
think about it a moment. Which is heavier, sand or water? 
Why should this boat sink if we swap a load of sand for a 
load of water? As the water comes in, the sand falls out, 



t68 With the Men Who Do Things. 

and the boat, relieved of the weight of the sand, actually 
rises ten feet higher out of the water." 

When they were "cracking" the bins, the sand sank a 
trifle, but presently the worm-shafts began to turn again, 
and, out of troughs at each side, there was a rush of water. 
The sand sank rapidly into the sea, melting away under 
the heavy streams. 

"They're running the pumps now to wash down the 
sand," Mr. Porter explained. "It gets pretty well packed, 
and docs not fall through the gates fast enough unless we 
help it along with some water." 

As the sand fell away, we saw how enormous the bins 
were. "Each bin holds fourteen hundred cubic yards," said 
Mr. Porter, "and in the two bins there is something like 
forty-five hundred tonsl But pshaw, I don't believe that 
conveys any idea to you. If you had to transport this sand 
over land, you would have to load it on a train a mile long, 
made up of one hundred and seventy-five cars, to carry off 
what this one vessel transports so easily. And what's more, 
it took us only two hours and fifty minutes to take on this 
load. We have been working here steadily for ten years, 
so you can just imagine we have sucked up quite a bit of 
mud and sand out of this old bay. The total excavation 
amounts to nearly seventy million cubic yards!" 

Mr. Porter paused, evidently expecting us to express 
astonishment at the figure, but it would not have impressed 
me as anything very extraordinary had he said billions in- 
stead of millions, because the figure was way beyond my 



Boats That Devour Mud. 169 

comprehension. So I said nothing, and Bill only said 
"Uhu," In a very matter-of-fact way. 

"Uhu!" mimicked Mr. Porter, **It doesn't seem to Im- 
press you very much. Let's put It another way. Suppose 
you should dump all this material in Broadway. You would 
choke the street from Bowling Green to Spuyten Duyvll to a 
depth of over two hundred feet. There, I thought that 
would astonish you," laughed Mr. Porter, as he saw our 
mouths open with surprise; "but It's true. 

"See what a huUaballoo they are making over the Panama 
Canal, and yet all their excavation will not amount to much 
more than two hundred million cubic yards in a canal forty- 
five miles long, while we, with our seven-mile under-water 
canal, have just about one third of that amount to haul out. 
Why, boys, if this channel was being excavated on land 
where you could see its depth and width, the papers would 
be full of It, and we would be having crowds of sightseers 
out to watch the work. But we go on quietly, making no 
fuss and bluster, digging a channel nearly as wide as Central 
Park, and as long as from City Hall to One Hundred and 
Twenty-fifth Street. The channel has to be forty feet deep 
at low water and that means that we have to dig anywhere 
from ten to twenty-five feet Into the bed of the bay to get 
the required depth, and all this without being able to see 
any of our work, but just moving our drags around and 
groping blindly in the dark." 

"And has all this work been done with only one dredge?" 
Bill asked. 



170 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"Oh, no! we have had four here up to a short time ago. 
Now the work is nearly done, so there are only two of us 
here In the bay. The other dredge has just left us to help 
out with the work on the Rockaway Inlet. Yes, the work 
has gone on steadily night and day, year in and ye&r out. 
We come in to our dock on Saturday afternoons and have 
Sunday ashore, but you will find us here at any other time, 
plodding along and sticking to it, rain or shine. Nothing 
but a howling gale drives us to shelter." 

"What a lonesome job," I remarked. 

"It does get rather monotonous at times, but we have 
our occasional excitements, too. Only the other day there 
was an incident that furnished just about all the excite- 
ment I care to have in a single dose. We were down at 
the entrance to the channel. There was such a heavy fog 
that we couldn't possibly do any work, so we lay there at 
anchor. Presently we heard the fog horn of a large vessel, 
outward bound, and then we made out the whistle of an- 
other vessel heading for port. Apparently we were right 
between the two and we kept our bell ringing to warn 
them off, but the whistling kept coming nearer. I was 
straining my eyes for a sight of the incoming steamer when 
all of a sudden it loomed up out of the fog less than two 
hundred feet away and traveling at a good fifteen-knot gait, 
too. Well, I say, she looked about the size of a mountain, 
and she was due to hit us amidships in another instant. We 
could do nothing but sound the alarm for every man to 
come on deck; but that vessel, it was a coast liner, made 



Boats That Devour Mud. 171 

one of the quickest turns on record. She just grazed us 
with ten feet clearance. Say, an experience like that un- 
nerves a fellow more than you would think, unless you 
went through it once. It doesn't take five minutes for the 
thing to happen, but the shock stays by you all day. You 
can't understand it unless you have actually experienced it. 
Suppose you were walking along Broadway and a safe 
should fall from the top of a twenty-story building and 
bury itself in the sidewalk not more than a yard in front 
of you, you'd experience a sensation, wouldn't you? Well, 
that's what happened to me once, but I tell you the shock 
was not one whit more unnerving and unexpected than the 
sight of that big steamer threatening to send us to the 
bottom with only a couple of minutes' warning." 

Mr. Porter looked pleased at the impression this made 
upon us. "Oh, yes, we have excitement enough sometimes. 
Every now and then we rescue a motor boat or launch that 
gets caught in a sudden squall. Occasionally we have ex- 
citement of a different sort. They are supposed to be very 
particular where they point their guns at Sandy Hook, 
when target shooting, but more than once, we have had 
shells fall dangerously near us. You know you can see 
those shells in flight. Once I was standing right by the 
forward bin when I saw a shell strike the water not far 
from us on our starboard side and then recochet directly 
toward me. I fell flat on the deck while that shell went 
screeching over me. The captain can testify that it passed 
right between that mast there and the pilot house, and 



172 



With the Me7i Who Do Things. 




say, that is as 

close as I want to 

get to one of 

those things in 

time of peace." 

All this time, the 

boat was steaming back 

rapidly up the channel. 

Just before we reached 

the spot that was to be 

dredged, Mr. Porter 

bade us look over the 

side of the vessel and see 

the enormous suction 

pipes. There were two 

pipes, one at each side of 

I § the boat, and while we 

o g were going along they 

were raised out of the 

water. We had not seen 

them before because the 

vessel was loaded so 

heavily that they were 

submerged. The pipes 

were twenty inches in 

diameter, and, where 

they entered the hull, 

they were fitted with 



^ 9 

t3 < 



Boats That Devour Mud. 173 

swivel-joints. At the opposite end of each pipe, there was 
a "drag," or a sort of mouthpiece, about five feet broad. 
The mouthpiece was partitioned off so that the openings in 
it measured about eight by nine inches. 

"Anything that can go through those openings," ex- 
plained Mr. Porter, "will go through all the rest of the 




FIG. 17. BURYING A STONE PILE WITH A WATER JET. 

system. It doesn't matter how heavy it is, the water will 
carry it right up into the bins." 

"Suppose you should strike a rock bigger than eight by 
nine inches," I asked; "what would you do?" 

"We would just dig a hole in the sand and bury it." 

"Bury it!" I ejaculated. 

Mr. Porter's eyes twinkled. "I astonished you again, 
didn't I? There are lots of stone piles along this channel. 
Nobody ever thought that the channel would be dug 



174 With the Men Who Do Things. 

through here, and there used to be no regulation against 
dumping rock in the bay. We can't suck up that rock be- 
cause there is too much of it. All we do is to dredge a 
deep hole around the stone pile fifteen or twenty feet deep, 
and then the survey-boat comes along with a water-jet that 
loosens up the pile, and topples it over into the hole." 

We looked puzzled. "Yes," explained Mr. Porter, 
■'they play a stream of water on the pile just as you might 
play the garden hose on a sand-hill. You can use the water- 
jet under water as well as anywhere else." 

Presently we saw the drag lowered into the water. The - 
pumps were started, and enormous streams of water poured 
boiling and churning, out of the square conduits at each side 
into the bins. Soon the water turned muddy, but the river 
of sand we expected to see failed to appear. 

"Is that what you pump up through the dredges?" Bill 
asked. 

"Yes, it Is mostly water, but soon the bins will fill up, and 
then the water will flow over the top into an overflow 
channel, while the sand and mud settle to the bottom." 

So this was the dirty dredging operation that we had 
prepared to see! The only thing objectionable about it 
was an unpleasant odor that arose when the drags began 
to suck up some of the surface mud. 

Mr. Porter took us below and let us see the big pumps 
at work. There were two centrifugal pumps about ten feet 
in diameter, driven by 450-horse-power engines. Every 
now and then, we heard a bang and a crash as a large stone 



Boats That Devour Mud. 175 

was carried through by the torrent of water, while there 
was an almost incessant rattle of small stones through the 
pipes. It was extremely interesting and quite marvelous to 
think of those two drags groping blindly along the bottom, 
devouring everything that came within their reach. Mr. 
Porter explained that the boat had to keep moving lest the 
tide or some current carry it backward, jamming the suc- 
tion pipes, and breaking them. 

When we got back on deck, we found, much to our 
regret, that the tugboat had returned, and we had to cut 
our visit short. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
THE LAUNCH OF A BATTLESHIP. 

The telegram read: "Battleship to be launched at 
Navy Yard this morning. Telephone one column." 

It tickled me to get these communications from the City 
Editor. It meant money. Money that I was earning, and 
It put me more on an equality with Bill and his thousand 
dollars. Of course Bill always treated me as an equal and 
as If Uncle Ed had given that thousand dollars to me as 
much as to him, but somehow I didn't feel just that way 
about It, and I couldn't quite forget our little tiff on the first 
morning. So it was that I welcomed every chance to earn 
a dollar or two. The articles were prepared by both of 
us together. Bill did his part with sketches and the figuring 
of comparisons and criticism of my style, but the actual 
writing was done by my hand, and so I felt that I was con- 
tributing my part toward our summer's outing. 

The Navy Yard was one of the places we had decided to 
visit. We were anxious to go aboard a battleship, and here 
was our chance to carry out our plans while incidentally 
earning some more money. 

I wonder how many boys ever stop to figure out just how 
a battleship or any other vessel, for that matter, Is launched. 

176 




U. S. BATTLESHIP NEW YORK SLIDING DOWN THE WAYS. 




CAUGHT BY THE TLTGS AFTER THE LAUNCHING. 



The Launch of a Battleship. 177 

I never had, and Bill and I argued it all out on the trolley 
going over. But the schemes we suggested were all wrong. 
A battleship Is a pretty heavy thing, you know. This one 
weighed ten thousand tons — just the bare hull without any 
heavy machinery. The idea of mounting such a heavy ship 
as this on wheels or rollers, as I suggested, was absurd. If 
it were supported wagpn-fashion on four wheels, the hull 
would be apt to crumple up in the center, of its own weight, 
because boats are not intended to be put to such uneven 
strains. When in the water they are supported throughout 
their entire length. It was an exceedingly ticklish job, mov- 
ing an object so huge and unwieldy. 

We reached the Navy Yard long before the launching and 
had plenty of time to study operations before the crowd 
arrived. The battleship had been built out In the open, 
right along the shore, on a special foundation. First, rov/s 
of piles were driven into the ground to furnish a solid bear- 
ing. Spiked to these piles were tiers of heavy timbers, the 
first tier running across the foundation. The upper tiers 
were made of beams laid crisscross and arranged in three 
parallel lines, one running under the keel and one at each 
side under the bilges. While the ship was under construc- 
tion Its weight was carried by the center keel blocks and 
hundreds of shoring timbers. These shoring timbers had 
all been removed before we arrived on the scene and the 
two parallel lines of timbers, which are known as "ground 
ways," were bearing their share of the load. The ground 
ways ran down Into the water a considerable distance. They 



178 



Wi-th the Men Who Do Things. 



^^yXA 




The Launch of a Battleship. 179 

formed the tracks, so to speak, on which the sliding ways 
were to travel, and they were well lubricated with thick 
grease. The sliding ways were made of hard wood, bolted 
fast to the ground ways. They were kept from slipping 
off the ground ways by projecting planks bolted to the out- 
side of the ground ways to form flanges. The sliding ways 
carried cradles or "poppets" in which the ship was sup- 
ported. Figs. 18 and 19 show the arrangement. The cradles 
were made up of broad steel straps, that ran under the keel 
and were fastened to steel brackets. The space between 
the hull and the straps was filled with white pine timbers, 
and the cradles were drawn up against the hull by means 
of steel wire and reinforcing bars. Between the sliding ways 
and the crushing timbers, which formed the bottom of the 
cradles, wedges of oak were driven in. Half an hour before 
the launch hundreds of workmen ranged themselves along 
each side of the ways and drove those wedges home with 
heavy sledge hammers, lifting the great hulk off the keel 
blocks, so that it was actually carried in slings. 

"But what in the world keeps the vessel from sliding 
down the ways," we queried. 

"Glycerine," was the laconic answer of one of the me- 
chanics. "Fact," he continued, as he caught our incredulous 
smile. "New scheme. Going to try it out for the first time 
this morning. We used to bolt the shore ends of the sliding 
ways to the ground ways, and then when the signal came, 
we would saw through the sliding ways just beyond the 
bolted part until they broke off with a bang. Then down 



i8o 



With the Men Who Do Things. 



would go the ship (Figure i8 shows where the ways were 
cut.) If she stuck we would give her a shove with a pair 
of hydraulic jacks. This time we are using a heavy steel 
trigger, like this" — and he made a rapid pencil sketch sim- 
ilar to Figure 20. "The steel trigger is pivoted in the 
ground ways and hooks against a cap on the sliding ways 
to keep them from sliding. The trigger is held out by a 
hydraulic piston. Glycerine is used in the cylinder to force 




LIDING 7 

WA YS ) 



LuBftiCAW 



\ROUND ^ 

WAYS V,^ 



(P/n TV RfLCASim i&tMi 
JiYORAUL/C CYUNbiR 

FIG. 20. THE HYDRAULIC LAUNCHING TRIGGER. 



the piston out. So you see it is the glycerine that keeps the 
boat from sliding down the ways. When the signal comes, 
somebody will turn a valve to let the trigger out and then 
the piston will slide into its cylinder and the trigger will let 
go of the sliding ways and off will go the ship." 

I was jotting down all this information and as soon as I 
had the complete story, I rushed off to telephone it to the 
Evening Sphere. Then I hurried back to Bill. 



The Launch of a Battleship. i8i 

The crowd was gathering rapidly now. Mr. Watklns 
showed up presently and asked us how we were getting 
along. Bill started to explain the launching ways, but he 
wouldn't stop to listen. "I never was much on machinery," 
was his excuse. "You can have that part of the story all 
to yourselves." 

The engineer In charge of the launching was walking up 
and down the ways, personally Inspecting every detail. "And 
a ticklish job It Is," said the mechanic, "It has house-moving 
beat a mile. That boat cost a penny or two, I'll have you 
know, just as she stands without her armor and machinery 
aboard. If there was any hitch It might cost lots more 
money, and that engineer would never hear the last of It." 

The vessel was to be launched stern foremost, as all ves- 
sels are, but, unlike other ships, this one had Its propellers 
In place. We learned that there was no dock In the neigh- 
borhood of New York large enough to take a battleship of 
the size of this one, and so the propellers had to be mounted 
in place before the vessel took to the water. One of the 
details that the engineer had to scrutinize very carefully was 
the boxing around the propellers, for when the vessel slid 
into the water, the Impact might be enough to Injure them, 
were they not very carefully protected. 

In the meanwhile officials were arriving at the grand- 
stand far overhead. There was a bustle of activity. The 
vessel was surrounded by a sea of spectators. Thousands of 
watches were out. The ship was to be launched at 12, 
noon. 



1 82 With the Men Who Do Things. 

After an interminable wait a factory whistle sounded. 
At the same instant the hydraulic valve was turned and the 
words rang out in a shrill, feminine voice, "I christen 
thee — " but the name was drowned in the crash of the 
champagne bottle against the retreating hull. Down slid 
the big boat, gathering momentum at each second. It was 
an anxious moment. Would anything happen to mar the 
event? The stern plunged into the water. In a moment 
the vessel had floated clear, and several tug boats immedi- 
ately made fast to it. The cheers completely drowned out 
the music of the band. _ Everybody swarmed over the ways 
to pick up pieces of the thick, hardened, orange-colored 
grease. 

We hurried off to the telephone. On the way we heard 
the gasp of escaping air. 

"That sounds familiar," cried Bill. We turned down one 
of the side streets and came upon a forest of caissons and 
excavating machinery. They must be going to put up a 
pretty big building there," I ventured. 

"I'll stop and investigate," said Bill. "There is no need 
of my going with you." 

"All right. I'll look for you when I get through." 

Most of my story explaining the launching apparatus had 
already been sent to the Sphere. All I had to do now was 
to add a little about how smoothly the launching had been 
carried out. 



CHAPTER XIX. 
THE "HOODOO DRYDOCK." 

When I returned I found Bill full of excitement over 
his find. 

"What do you suppose," he exclaimed, "it isn't a sky- 
scraper they're building, but a hole in the ground." 

"A hole!" I exclaimed. "Stop talking in riddles." 

"Yes, a hole, and the whole navy yard has been trying to 
slide into it. Look at that building there." It was one of 
the workshops and the entire front had given way. 

"But what do they want such a hole for?" 

"For a drydock. They let the boats sail in and then they 
shut the gate at the end and pump out the water so that 
they can scrape and paint the hull of the vessel or do any 
repairs that are necessary." 

"Oh, I know what a drydock is, but I don't see why they 
have so much trouble digging it." 

"Oh, they have had a terrible time," said Bill. "I have 
just been talking to one of the engineers. They have been 
working at this particular hole for years. It's called the 
'Hoodoo Drydock.' Two contractors gave it up, after 
spending thousands of dollars on it, and now this one is 
trying a brand new scheme. Come over this way and meet 
Engineer Edwards. He'll tell you all about it." 

183 



184 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"We have the worst kind of soil imaginable here," said 
Mr. Edwards, after I had been introduced. "It is made 
up of layers of mud and quicksand and there is no bedrock 
except so far down that it is impossible to sink caissons to 
it. The quicksand is very treacherous stuff. The first fel- 
low that tackled the job thought he would build a wall all 
around the dock by driving sheet piling to the hardpan be- 
low it. The piling was made of sheets of steel with grooves 
at one edge for the next pile to fit into so as to make a con- 
tinuous wall. 

"You see if he could build a cut-off wall like that and 
make it strong enough to withstand the pressure of the 
sand back of it, he could dig out the sand inside the wall 
without having a lot of new sand pouring in all the time. 
But the trouble was that he couldn't drive his sheet piling 
down without striking boulders every now and then that 
would twist the metal out of shape. Then when he dug out 
the ground inside the walls the quicksands shifted the walls 
of piling and boiled up through the thin layer of clay at 
the bottom into the excavation. He planned to lay the 
floor of his drydock on wooden piles driven as close together 
as possible, but the sand below, was so fine and so fluid that 
the piles wouldn't stay down. The thin, clay blanket at 
the top would hold them for a time and then they would 
work loose and bob up, actually floating in the fluid 
sand layer. Troubles came thick and fast and so the con- 
tractor threw up the job. The next man thought he could 
keep ahead of the water and sand that filled the excavation, 



The ''Hoodoo Dry dock.'' 185 

by pumping It out as fast as It poured in, but there was 
no limit to the stuff that kept boiling up through the thin 
clay floor, and the first thing he knew that machine shop 
over there began to settle. The pumps were sucking the 
sandy foundation from under It. The entire front of the 
building caved in. But the worst was still to come. There 
was a large trunk-line sewer running through the yard near 
the dock. The soil support under the sewer was sucked out 
by the pump, and, finally, the sewer Itself was put to such 
a strain that It broke, and the sewage began to pour Into the 
excavation. Soon the hole was a vast, evil-smelling cess- 
pool. There was nothing to do but dig up the sewer and 
repair It, and then pump the hole clear of the sewage. This 
was too much for the second contractor, and he gave It up. 
Now we are building on a somewhat different plan. We 
are constructing a cut-off wall of solid concrete all around, 
five feet thick, and running down 80 or 90 feet to a layer 
of hard clay, and It looks as though this method would ac- 
complish the trick." 

We could see that there was a complete ring of caissons 
running all along the dock, and I jotted down the size of 
the dock as given me by Engineer Edwards. It was no 
feet wide, or about half the width of an ordinary city block, 
and 726 feet long, or as long as three New York city blocks. 
The caissons were only 36 feet long, and so you see it took 
quite a number of caissons to complete the entire circuit. 

"Down In No. 38 and in 31 too," said Engineer Ed- 
wards, "they are cutting away some of the old sheet piling 



1 86 With the Men Who Do Things, 

which was crumpled up so badly by the boulders they struck, 
that it lies in the way of the caisson work. They are using 
the oxy-acetylene torch." 

"What?" I asked, alive to the dangers of a torch In a 
caisson. 

"Why, a torch that eats its way through the steel and 
iron. The torch burns acetylene and oxygen. Just enough 
oxygen is mixed with the acetylene to make the hottest kind 
of flame. The heat is so intense that iron melts under it, 
almost like butter. It makes a clean cut, too. You can cut 
your name through a plate two inches thick with one of 
those torches, just as neatly as if It had been done with a 
scroll saw through a quarter-Inch board." 

"Say, won't you let us see them at It?" we exclaimed. 

"What, under pressure? Why, young men, do you un- 
derstand that we are using an air pressure of 35 pounds 
on every square Inch." 

"Oh, we are old timers," I declared. "We have been 
under pressure before. The fact is, we worked as sand- 
hogs for a week under the East River. We were there 
when Jerry was blown out of the tube through the bottom 
of the river, and we were In the caisson where Danny 
Roach was so badly burned a few weeks ago." 

"You don't say so," exclaimed Engineer Edwards, "then 
you might as well come along," 

We climbed into one of the buckets that was being low- 
ered into Lock No. 38, and soon found ourselves In the 
long, narrow working chamber. 



The ''Hoodoo Drydock." 187 

"Why, it's a wooden chamber," exclaimed Bill. "Aren't 
you afraid of setting it afire?" 

^ "Oh, we've done that often," said Mr. Edwards, "but 
we are always on the watch for trouble and have wet sand 
on hand to bury the blaze, and once or twice we have had 
to flood a caisson to drown a fire." 

"At the far end of the caisson there were two men 
operating the torch to cut away a crumpled piece of heavy 
sheet iron that had turned at right angles clear across the 
working chamber. They had to cut through it at both sides 
of the chamber to clear the way for the cutting edges of the 
caisson. When I saw the blast of the acetylene torch blaz- 
ing white hot so close to the wooden walls of the chamber, 
it brought back to me the horror of the blazing oakum and 
flaming clothes on poor Danny Roach. 

"You might think that the blast of this torch would be 
much greater and fiercer in this compressed air than out- 
side," said Mr. Edwards, "but you see the acetylene is 
mixed with all the oxygen it needs so that it would blaze 
just the same if there were no air at all in the chamber. 
The heat of the torch is 6300 degrees Fah., and steel melts 
at about 2500 degrees, so you see it Is almost like cutting 
butter with a jet of boiling water." 

It was indeed remarkable how quickly that sheet of metal 
was cut away. It was melted through as cleanly as If cut 
with a knife, and the cut was no more than half an inch 
wide. With the torch it was sliced Into pieces of con- 
venient size, to be packed into the bucket and be hauled 



1 88 With the Men Who Do Things. 

through the narrow lock to the surface. Once while burn- 
ing away the steel at the cutting edge the wooden walls 
of the working chamber caught fire, but a man who was on 
watch for trouble, smothered the flame, immediately, with 
a pail of wet sand. 

When we had seen all there was to see. Engineer Ed- 
wards took us over to a caisson at the middle of the dock. 
"They're doing some rather unusual work down there," he 
said. "The caisson has been sunk to a depth of 95 feet 
below water level, and we are now in a layer of hard clay 
which, although not_by any means as good for a foundation 
as a solid rock, will have to do, because we cannot economi- 
cally go much further on account of the air pressure re- 
quired. We are using over 48 pounds now, and the men 
are at work only an hour and a half at a shift." 

We have never been under such heavy pressure before, 
but our guide, personally, tended to the air valve and let 
in the compressed air so slowly that we did not feel very 
uncomfortable. When we reached the bottom of the shaft- 
ing, we were astonished to find that the working chamber 
flared out on all sides and at a decided angle, so that while 
it was only seven feet square at the top it was fully ten feet 
square below. 

"How did you manage to sink a chamber of that shape?" 
I inquired. 

"We didn't," said Mr. Edwards, "we built the walls of 
the chamber as we went along. Watch that man over, there 
and you will catch on to what I mean." 



The '^Hoodoo Dry dock. 



189 



The man was driving short 
lengths of planking at a slant 
into the ground. The planks 
were mortised and tenoned 
together and made a con- 
tinuous wall. Then I noticed 
that the slanting wall was 
made of several layers of 
such planked piling, one layer 
overlapping, or, more prop- 
erly speaking, underlapping 
the next, as in Figure 21. 

"We can't use very long 
piles in such cramped quar- 
ters," explained Mr. Ed- 
wards, "and even if there 
were plenty of head room 
we couldn't get planks more 
than six feet long through 
the air locks. We are nearly 
through with this footing. It 
will spread over an area of 
eleven feet square when / ^ 
it is done. Then it will ^^ /^ ^i 
serve to keep the dock 
down, as well as up." 

"How, keep it down?" 
I queried. 



fitlaltamttHmItt <|«A9 




FIG. 21. MAKING A FLARED FOOTING 
FOR A CONCRETE COLUMN. 



IQO With the Men Who Do Things. 

"Why, a drydock Is subjected to some very curious strains 
and stresses when built in such treacherous soil as we have 
here. It is really an enormous flat-bottom concrete boat. 
When the end gate is open and it is flooded with water, it 
is like a sunken vessel; its weight rests heavily on the bot- 
tom. After a heavy battleship is docked in here, and the 
water is all pumped out, the dock will be light enough to 
float, battleship and all, but the battleship will impose such 
a concentrated load on the bottom of our concrete boat, 
that it would be apt to break under the strain. That is 
why we are sinking piers like these with spread foundations 
to take the load. There will be three rows, twenty-four 
feet apart, down the center line of the dock, with the piers 
spaced twenty feet apart in each row. When the dock is 
pumped dry and there Is no vessel in It, there will be an 
enormous upward thrust caused by the water pressure under 
the floor of the dock, which would tend to lift the dock 
bodily out of the ground. The side walls will be heavy 
enough to stay down, but^ the floor, which will be a slab 
of concrete, only eight feet thick, would give way under the 
pressure were it not held down by the piers with their 
spread footings. See this dock displaces so much water or 
fluid sand, that although we have sixty thousand cubic yards 
of concrete and two hundred thousand tons of steel in It, 
our concrete boat would float well out of water with Its 
foundation piers and all, were It not actually held down by 
the flaring footings and the friction of the ground on the 
side walls." 



The ''Hoodoo Drydock/' 191 

"Sixty thousand cubic yards," exclaimed Bill, making a 
rapid calculation, "why, that would make a solid chunk 
nearly one hundred and twenty feet on each side." 

"Yes," said Engineer Edwards, "and if you built it into 
a 1 0-foot wall, a yard thick, it would be over ten miles 
long." 

"Oh, look at that lock," said Bill, when we had returned 
to the surface. "It doesn't look as though a man could 
much more than squeeze through. Why do they have to 
make it so small?" 

"That is a 'key' between two of the caissons. You notice 
how all the caissons in the cut-off wall have half-round 
forms in them so that between them they leave a circular 
well. Now we are just cutting out the timbers from the 
half-round sections, and then the shaft that is formed will 
be filled with concrete." 

The half-round sections he referred to are shown in Fig- 
ures 22 and 23. Temporary forms were built into the caisson? 
as each section was added, leaving a half-round hollow shaft 
more or less filled with timbers. There was a similar half- 
round shaft in the adjacent caisson, and together they 
formed a cylindrical well three feet in diameter extending 
from the surface to the decks of the working chambers, with 
the adjoining walls of the caissons forming a central parti- 
tion. It was this partition that had to be cut away, and 
the timber work of the forms had to be removed before the 
well could be filled with concrete to key the two caissons 
together, Mr. Edwards explained how they would proceed 



192 



With the Men Who Do Things. 




FIG. 22. HALF-ROUND FORMS 
IN A CAISSON. 




FIG. 23. 



A KEY SHAFT BETWEEN 
TWO CAISSONS. 



with the work, as far as they 
could, before water leaked 
into the shaft between the 
two adjoining walls of the 
caisson. Then they would 
cork up the top of the shafts 
with a plug of concrete, leav- 
ing a small shafting in the 
center to provide access to 
the Interior. It was on such 
a shafting as this that the 
men were putting the small 
air locks. Once the airlock 
was in place they would force 
out the water as far down as 
the partition was cut, stop- 
ping up the crack between the 
caissons with clay and oakum. 
Engineer Edwards told us of 
a frightful accident that had 
happened once when he was 
on a similar job. The man 
who was stuffing in the oakum 
accidentally set fire to a bunch 
of it. We knew what fire in 
a caisson was, but this accident 
was far more serious than 
the one we had experienced. 



The *' Hoodoo Dry dock. ^* 193 

There was no chance of getting out of the way In a shaft 
only three feet in diameter and the blazing oakum dropped 
down on the helpless men, burning them so badly that all 
but one died. 

"When the men clear up the timbers all the way to the 
bottom," Engineer Edwards continued to explain, "they'll 
cut into the wall of the working chambers and then they 
will begin to fill the well with concrete until the entire shaft 
is filled to the very top, bonding the two walls together. 
After the entire cut-off wall is completed, we shall begin to 
dig out the dock. To relieve the pressure against the walls, 
we are going to shore across from one side to the other 
with heavy timbers. Then we'll excavate a small section at 
a time and lay our flooring." 

"But wKat about the entrance to the lock," said Bill, "you 
haven't a cut-off there, have you?" 

"Oh, yes, we have. There are two cut-ofE walls there, 
forty feet apart. Extra heavy caissons are used, and they 
are filFed with concrete up to the level of the dock floor, 
but empty above that. The space between these cofferdams, 
as they are called, is being excavated, and there the granite 
seat for the gate of the dock will be built. When the rest 
of the dock is done, the cofferdams will be cut away, and the 
granite work between them will be bonded to the rest of 
the dock." 

"Do you hinge the gate to the seat?" I asked, having in 
mind the gates used on canal locks. 

"Oh, no," laughed Mr. Edwards, "that would never do. 



194 With the Men Who Do Things 

Haven't you ever seen a ship dock? Well, the Connecticut 
Is due here the day after to-morrow, and Is to be docked In 
No. 4. Why don't you come down and see tlie whole 
operation for yourselves?" 

"That win be great," I said. 

"Will you be there, so that we can ask questions," asked 
Bill. lEnglneer Edwards laughed. "You are a regular 
question mark. But that is the only way to learn, and I 
am only too glad to give you all the Information I can. I 
am afraid, though, that I shall be too busy to spend the 
day with you. Besides, if you become too Inquisitive, you 
may 'stump' me with your questions. The master shipwright 
is the man you want to see. He always prepares the docks 
for the vessels. Here, lend me your note book. Bill." 

Mr. Edwards tore out a leaf and wrote a note of intro- 
duction to Master Shipwright Lowry. "There, take that 
over to Lowry In that long brick building over there, and 
see what you can get out of him." 

Mr. Lowry certainly was a hard man to interview. He 
was willing enough to talk, but he used so many nautical 
terms and was so vague that we couldn't follow him. We 
gathered finally that it was far simpler to prepare a dock 
for a battleship than for other boats, because a battleship 
is flat-bottomed, and It is only necessary to lay three lines 
of blocks In the dock to receive it, all in a straight line, 
and all at just about the same level, while a round-bot- 
tomed vessel must have the blocks set to fit the shape of 
the hull, and then big, round timbers, or shores, must be 



The ''Hoodoo Dry dock.'' 195 

fitted between the sides of the vessel and the dock to keep 
the boat from listing to one side or the other. 

"I'd rather dock a battleship any day than a destroyer 
or a submarine," said Mr. Lowry, "particularly a sub- 
marine. There isn't a flat place on it anywhere." 

"But how do you know just where to set the blocks?" 

"We have to study the plans of the ship and lay them 
accordingly. We have sliding bilge blocks that we pull up 
against the hull after the water is pumped out, so that the 
keel lies on the keel-blocks. Usually the stern lies lower 
than the head, and as soon as it rests on the blocks we put 
in a pair of the after-shores. Then we pivot the vessel on 
them and swing the head around until it is set just right. 
Then we put in another pair of shores forward. If you 
go over to dock No. 3, you'll see the blocks we finished 
setting yesterday for a destroyer. A nasty job it was, 
too, .because the propellers of the pesky little boat stick 
down below the keel, and we have to build up the blocks 
so as to keep them clear." 

"But what is the gate of a dock like?" 

"Hasn't any one told you that yet? It is just a boat that 
fits up against the end of the dock, and It is held there by a 
pressure of water outside. To make a tight joint a heavy 
strip or beading of rubber is used between the gate and the 
end walls of the dock. You had better come around the 
day after to-morrow and see the whole thing." 

We were on hand on the day appointed to witness the 
docking of the battleship Connecticut, and were In time to 



196 With the Men Who Do Things. 

see the dock filled. Water poured in slowly until it was 
of the same level inside as out. The dock gate was a boat- 
shaped caisson, about fifteen feet wide at the top and bulg- 
ing to fully twenty feet below. The bulging sides were 
necessary to keep it from being crushed in by the enor- 
mous pressure of the water. When the water pressure was 
equalized on both sides of the gate by filling the dock to 
sea level, water was pumped out of the interior of the 
caisson until it was light enough to float. Then it was 
towed out of the way. When everything was ready the 
battleship was towed up to a position before the dock. A 
line was run from the bow to a capstan at the head of the 
dock, and then a monkey engine was started and the line 
was very slowly taken up on a winch. On each side were 
gangs of men, with side lines attached to the vessel, by 
which they centered the ship. There were sighting lines 
stretched across the dock, by which the exact position of 
the vessel over the blocks could be determined. While the 
battleship was being manceuvered the caisson gate was 
towed back to position and sunk by admitting water into 
it. Then the pumps were started to clear the dock of wa- 
ter. As the water settled we could see the heavy rubber 
beading being crushed flat by the pressure of the water on 
the outside. In due time the entire dock was emptied of 
water, revealing the bare hull of the battleship resting 
upon the blocks thart had been set for it by the master ship- 
wright. In addition to these several sliding blocks were 
drawn up by chains against each side. 



CHAPTER XX. 
TWENTY MILES UNDER THE SEA. 

"Oh, Jim, look here! If that isnl:, for all the world, 
like a squab on a turkey platter." 

It was absurd. There, at the bottom of a great big dry- 
dock, large enough to hold a battleship, was a saucy little 
submarine. 

"Looks lonesome, doesn't she?" said Bill. 

"Strikes me she's an independent little upstart that doesn't 
care a hang about company." 

"She has fine lines, hasn't she?" remarked Bill. "Tapers 
like a fat cigar. I'll bet she can go some." 

We walked around to the gang-plank that ran across to 
the boat from about half-way down the sloping, stepped 
side of the dry-dock. 

"Now, if that isn't tough," I exclaimed; "the most in- 
teresting thing in the whole navy yard, and they have hung 
a 'No visitors' sign on it." 

"Maybe they'd let representatives from the Evening 
Sphere go aboard," put in Bill. But the sentry would not 
listen to f^xy excuses. He had strict orders to let no one on 
that boat. 

"Where can we get a permit?" I asked. 

"I don't believe you can get a permit anywhere, sir — par- 

197 



198 With the Men Who Do Things. 

ticularly if you are reporters. They are installing some new 
machinery on that submarine, that the Department does not 
care to have published in the papers." 

"But we promise not to publish anything without submit- 
ting It to the Department for approval. Don't you think the 
commandant of the yard would let us go aboard with such 
a promise?" 

"How would he know that you would keep your prom- 
ise?" 

A happy thought struck me. "Suppose I ask Cousin Jack 
to see whether he ca^i get us a pass. He is a lieutenant- 
commander in the Navy, you know." 

My request to Cousin Jack went off by the very next mail. 
Two weeks later, when we had almost forgotten the event, 
I received a letter with an official seal in the corner. 

"Hurray!" I shouted, slapping Bill on the back. "It's 
from the Bureau of Navigation of the United States Navy, 
and signed by the Chief of the Bureau himself. He says 
that we may go aboard a submarine, and, what's more, we 
can take a trip in one during manoeuvers now being carried 
on off Provincetown." 

A letter from Cousin Jack arrived in the same mail, and 
he told us that we were unusually fortunate. It was almost 
unheard of for any visitor to be allowed aboard a subma- 
rine during manoeuvers, and that he had obtained permis- 
sion for us on the condition that we would not publish a 
word of what we saw without first submitting it to the 
Department. 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 199 

That very night we took a Fall River boat, and the next 
afternoon arrived at Provincetown. Armed with our per- 
mit, we took a steam-launch to the old monitor that was 
acting as "mother" for the fleet of submarines. The officer 
of the deck introduced us to the ensign, who commanded 
one of the submarines. Instead of being named like any 
other vessel would be, this humble little craft was designated 
only by a number. For instance, "E3," the letter standing 
for the class and the numeral for the number of that class. 
The submarine we were to board was moored alongside the 
monitor, and it was rising and falling with a gentle swell, 
looking like a large whale. The ensign sent for Mr. McDer- 
mott, the chief gunner's mate, and put us in his charge. He 
led us over the gang-plank to the narrow deck that emerged 
from the water. It was only five feet wide and about sixty 
feet long. A steel rope ran around it and served as a hand- 
rail.. An elliptical tower rose from the deck amidships, and 
from the top of this projected a hood, or conning-tower, 
protected with heavy plate-glass windows, for observation 
when the craft was running awash. There was a miniature 
navigator's bridge for use when sailing on the surface, and 
in front of this were two tubes that reached to a height of 
over twenty feet from the deck. 

"Those are the eyes of the submarine," said our pilot. 
"A submarine does not wear its eyes in sockets, as we do, 
but on the ends of a pair of stalks, like snails or crabs." 

Of course, that excited our curiosity, and we fired a 
broadside of questions at him. "Come down below," was 



200 With the Men Who Do Things. 

his response, "and you can see for yourselves how the eyes 
work. We haven't any ladies' entrance to these boats — 
only a hatchway." 

We crawled through a manhole in the deck and down a 
ladder, while I wondered if there were fire exits anywhere. 
That hole in the roof would make an awfully tight jam in 
case of trouble, 

I had always imagined that the submarine was divided 
into separate cabins by compartments or bulkheads, and 
that it had an upper and lower deck; but there were no 
bulkheads in this boat, Mr, McDermott explained that 
some of the larger boats had bulkheads, but the idea of 
two decks was manifestly absurd In a vessel whose extreme 
outside diameter was only twelve feet. After taking out 
the space occupied by the water-ballast tanks and com- 
pressed-air reservoirs, there remained a very cramped in- 
terior, I had no idea that the boat was so small. We could 
not walk erect without hitting our heads against valve 
wheels, brackets, rods, and ather projections depending from 
the roof. The crew habitually walked with heads ducked 
to avoid obstructions. We could see from end to end of 
the boat, as there were no partitions of any sort. It was 
marvelous how every nook and cranny was utilized to the 
fullest advantage. Although there were no partitions, the 
boat was evidently divided off by imaginary lines Into dif- 
ferent quarters. Just forward of the main hatchway was 
evidently the galley, for the walls were hung with brightly 
polished cooking utensils. Forward of the galley was a 




SUBMARINE RUNNING AWASH. 




CLEARING THE DECK BEFORE DIVING. 



d 




RUNNING WITH THE CONNING TOWER OUT OF WATER. 




ALL UNDER BUT THE PERISCOPE TUBES. 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 201 

table in what proved to be the captain's quarters, while at 
the extreme forward end of the boat, where the torpedoes 
were launched, there was a complicated assemblage of wheels, 
dials, levers, instruments, etc., that fairly dazzled one with 
their high polish. Aft were the gasolene engines and dyna- 
mos, and under the floor were the storage batteries. Pro- 
jecting from the ceiling just forward of the hatchway were 
the periscopes, or, as our guide called them, the "eyes" of 
the boat. A system of lenses and prisms made it possible, 
by looking into the eyepieces here, to see out of the top of 
the tubes twenty-five feet above. The periscope could be 
turned around to bring any point of the compass Into view, 
while a scale ia the field of vision showed in what direction 
the periscope was turned. 

"You see," explained our guide, "we can run along twenty 
feet under water with only this tube sticking above the sur- 
face. It Is such a small object that no one would notice it, 
and yet we can see perfectly all around us, and manoeuver 
the boat In absolute safety." 

"But don't you ever go deeper than that? I thought 
you went down to the bottom of the sea." 

"Where the sea Is no more than two hundred feet deep 
we can go to the bottom ; but below that the pressure grows 
too heavy, and eventually it would be enough to crush the 
boat. After all, It isn't necessary to go very deep. If we 
run along at a depth of sixty feet, we are sure to clear all 
shipping, and no one could possibly find us." 

"Can you see under water?" I asked. 



202 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"No, not more than one hundred feet or so, and then 
very dimly, as If in a fog. When completely under water, 
we have to go by dead reckoning," 

Just then the captain came aboard. At the word of com- 
mand the gang-plank was raised, the hawsers were cast off, 
and the crew took up their positions. The engine was 
started, and we were off. Those engines certainly were 
interesting. Powerful little fellows they were, too. Be- 
tween them they developed over 500-horse-power. Each 
engine drove its own propeller. We squeezed down the 
narrow passageway between them, and saw that the pro- 
peller-shafts passed through the electric motors which drive 
the vessel when completely under water. The armatures of 
the motors were mounted directly on the shaft, and so they 
revolved with the shaft when it was driven by the engines. 
But the circuit of the field windings was open, and no elec- 
tric current was generated, so the armatures made no load 
on the shaft, but merely took the place of fly-wheels to steady 
the operation of the engines. 

We climbed up through the hatchway to see what was 
going on without. As I stuck my head out of the man- 
hole, I was astonished at the speed we seemed to be making. 
With my eye so close to the water, the waves seemed to be 
racing by with the speed of an express-train. 

"We are making thirteen and a half knots, sir," said one 
man proudly. 

"Only thirteen and a half," I ejaculated. "I'd have sworn 
it was thirty." 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 203 

Just before me on the bridge was the quartermaster at 
the wheel. 

We had no sooner taken a good look at our surround- 
ings than orders were given to strip the upper works. The 
masts at each end of the boat were on hinges, and they were 
swung down upon the deck. The bridge was dismantled 
and passed in sections down the hatchway. The hand rope 
and the stanchions that supported it were taken down, and 
presently the smooth, rounded back of the submarine was 
bare of every obstruction except the connlng-tower and the 
periscopes. We all crept inside, and the hatch was closed 
behind us. There were eighteen men besides ourselves 
within the hold of that tiny vessel. The gasolene engines 
had already been stopped, and we were now running with 
our electric motors. It was astonishing how quiet every- 
thing was. There was only the slight hum of the motors 
and. the sound of the spray at our bow. The quartermaster 
continued navigating the craft from within the conning- 
tower. 

"Fill the main ballast tank I" called the captain. "Fill 
the forward trimming tank!" A moment later, "Fill the 
after trimming tank!" 

We could hear the water rushing into the big U-shaped 
tank that lay under our feet and extended part way up the 
walls at either side of us. Th^ pointer of a large depth- 
gage told us just how fast we were sinking. When we were 
awash, the motors, which had been stopped while the tanks 
were being filled, were started again. A man was stationed 



204 With the Men Who Do Things. 

In the conning tower, and immediately below him was the 
look-out with his eye to the periscope. It was remarkable 
how stealthily we moved. Everything was quiet. There 
was no vibration, and absolutely no rolling or pitching. 

"Why don't you run the boat with gasolene engines?" I 
asked the chief gunner's mate. 

"Why, man alive, we haven't air enough. Those little 
beasts would gobble up all our air in five minutes, and then 
they would stop working. As a matter of fact, the engines 
would suffocate long before the crew. We tried that once. 
Everything was closed air-tight and the engines were 
started. They hadn't run five minutes before they stopped. 
But we could still breathe easily, although the sensation was 
not very pleasant — something like being up on a very tall 
mountain. So you see that the men can stand it as long as 
the engines can." 

"Where do you get fresh air from, anyway?" asked 
Bill. 

"Fresh air? We don't get any." 

"But you have compressed air to live on, haven't you?" 

"Oh, we have lots of compressed air, but we use it for 
other things. We don't have any other air to breathe, ex- 
cept what is shut up in here with us. There is enough air in 
this hold to last us comfortably for twelve hours, and, on 
a pinch, we could get along for twenty-four hours." 

"Incredible!" we both exclaimed. 

"Doesn't It ever make you sick?" asked Bill. 

"Oh, no; this idea of having to have fresh air is all rub- 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 205 

bish. I've lived with fishermen in the North Sea — fine, 
healthy men they are, too ; none better anywhere. Yet those 
men would huddle down in the cabin of their boat, fairly 
reeking with fish and oil and tobacco, and would gather 
around an oil stove, with every crack and cranny of the 
cabin calked up, so as not to lose any of the heat, and there 
they'd stay until so little oxygen was left that the fire in 
the stove would go out and they couldn't even light their 
pipes. I've been down there with them. Glad to be there, 
too, out of the cold, and I would never notice how bad the 
air was while I was in it; but if I went out for a minute and 
then came back, it was hard to understand how that thick 
atmosphere, laden with vile odors, could sustain life. It 
Isn't the lack of oxygen that bothers us down here in the 
submarine, but the fumes of gasolene and oil, and particu- 
larly the gases from the battery. They make a fellow dopey. 
I have seen fellows so far out of their heads that they would 
go round picking Imaginary bugs off the engines ; and once, 
last year, when we had a long run with the hatches closed, 
because the weather was very heavy, one of the lads — Al 
Curtis, his name was — lost his head completely. He started 
after the captain with a crowbar. The captain saw him com- 
ing and ducked behind a table. You should have seen them 
chasing each other around that table ! Al had murder in his 
eye, and he fought and raved like a maniac, when three of us 
jumped on him from the rear, bore him to the floor and 
bound him. Most of the crew was laid up before we finished 
that run. But we don't often stay under so long." 



2o6 With the Men Who Do Things. 

There was a sharp command from our captain, in re- 
sponse to which the man in charge of the diving rudders 
turned a hand-wheel. The boat dipped and lurched for- 
ward. We watched the indicator hand travel slowly over 
the dial of the depth-gage. Five feet, ten feet, fifteen, eight- 
een, twenty — there we halted. We proceeded for a time at 
that depth below the surface. I climbed up into the conning- 
tower, but could see nothing but the dense green which com- 
pletely covered us. However, the ends of the periscopes 
were well above the surface, and navigation was a simple 
matter. I was allowed to look through one of the subma- 
rine's eyes, and, while I was looking, the captain gave the 
command to dive. Presently, the water surged up over the 
top of the periscope, and instinctively I rose on tiptoes and 
drew in my breath, as if I were actually being submerged in 
the water. As we continued to sink, it was fascinating to 
watch the gage telling off the depth. At sixty-five feet be- 
low the surface we came to an even keel. 

"No danger of running- into any boats now," said the 
chief gunner's mate as he looked at the gage. I shouldn't 
be surprised if we were near the enemy. Very likely we are 
going to run under them, and fire our torpedoes from the 
other side." 

We hurried forward to witness the operation of launch- 
ing the torpedoes. The torpedoes were interesting looking 
objects, shaped like cigars, with blunt forward ends and fins 
at the rear crossing each other at right angles. They 
weighed two thousand pounds each. The explosive was 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 207 

packed in the "war-head," or "cap," at the forward end. 
We were relieved to find that dummy war-heads were used 
for target practice, and that there were no explosives 
aboard. The main body of the torpedo was filled with air 
under high pressure, which drove the motor that ran the 
propeller of the torpedo. The rudders of the torpedo were 
kept pointed constantly in a given direction by a gyroscope. 
"It is just like a top," explained our guide. "You pick 
up a spinning top on the palm of your hand, and watch it 




FIG. 24. LONGITUDINAL SECTION OF A TORPEDO. 

A, plunger or striking rod; B, guncotton charge; C, detonating charge; D, air-flask; 
E, hydrostatic valve; F, pendulum. G, turbine; H, submergence control mechanism; 
I, superheater; J, air-lever; K, immersion servo-motor; L, pressure regulator; M, gyro- 
scope; N, servo-motor; O, rudders for horizontal control; P, rudders for vertical control; 
0, rudder controls; R, propellers; S, shaft-gearing, T, ballast. 



Stand upright even though you slant your hand this way and 
that. That's how it Is with the gyroscope: its axis keeps 
pointing In one direction, regardless of what goes on about 
It. To keep the torpedo at a constant depth under water 
there Is a rudder that is moved in one direction by a spring, 
and in the other by a plunger upon which the water presses. 
If the torpedo runs below the set depth, the water pressure 
will be sufficient to move the plunger up, compressing the 
spring and elevating the rudder. On the other hand. If It 
rises above a predetermined level, the water pressure is 



3o8 With the Men Who Do Things, 

less, and the spring forces the plunger down, depressing the 
rudder. 

"Our boat is coming to the surface now; we will be ready 
to fire soon." 

"Suppose we hit something," said Bill, "before the peri- 
scope Is out of water." 

"There is some danger of that, but this craft has 'ears' 
as well as 'eyes.' " 

"Ears?" 

"Yes, ears. It's all but human. On each side, there is a 
diaphragm like thatof a telephone. These are connected 
by wires to a receiver. If any sound is heard, there is a way 
of telling whether it is louder in one instrument than in the 
other, and so the captain can determine where the sound is 
coming from. He always listens for the noise of the pro- 
pellers of a vessel or the chugging of its engines before 
rising to the surface. 

At the forward end of the boat there were four torpedo- 
tubes, two of which could ht manipulated at a time. Our 
guide explained that the torpedoes would be placed in the 
tubes, the breach-blocks closed and then the cap at the out- 
side opened. The nose of the boat formed the cap. By 
turning a hand-wheel, the cap would be moved out a trifle, 
letting the water run into the tubes around the torpedoes, 
and then the cap would be turned on its axis so as to bring 
two holes In it Into ^register with two of the torpedo-tubes. 
There was a plate inside which would Indicate when the 
proper registry had been obtained. 



'-'*«^«:S!S5«««i;.;_~- 




EriwtM -f. 6«V(1A-'li ■ 



"MY, HOW ANGRY THE CAPTAIN WAS !" — See page 2O9. 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 209 

The motors had been stopped for an instant, when the 
order came to unseat the cap and flood the tubes. Instantly 
our bow tipped downward, and we lunged forward. Bill 
and I knew there was some danger, by the look on the faces 
around us. We followed their gaze, and saw the indicator 
hand racing around to 100, no, 120, 135 feet. By that 
time the engine had been started, and the man at the diving 
rudder-wheel brought us up so smartly that the boat leaped 
out of the water, betraying us to the enemy, of course. 

My, how angry the captain was 1 He kicked up an awful 
row. Some one had blundered. There were no torpedoes 
in the tubes when the order to flood them was carried out. 
The nose of our submarine was suddenly loaded with sev- 
eral tons of water. Naturally we had gone down like a 
shot. I didn't realize before what a delicate balance had to 
be maintained in that boat. There were ballast tanks all 
over. First, there was the main tank, the large U-shaped 
reservoir at the middle of the boat that surrounded us on 
three sides; then there were trimming tanks fore and aft to 
bring us to an even keel, and finally a tank right at the cen- 
ter of gravity which provided a delicate adjustment of our 
displacement. We learned that usually the boat is weighted 
with water until it has a reserve buoyancy of only 500 
pounds. Then It is forced down by driving it forward with 
thfe horizontal rudders tipped. When we first went down it 
took us about a minute and a half to reach a depth of fif- 
teen feet, but our plunge, when the torpedo tubes were 
opened, was by no means so gradual. 



210 Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 

We dived again, but this time under control, and we 
manoeuvered about under water for half an hour or more, 
so that the enemy would lose all track of us. At one time 
we must have been directly under one of the vessels, for we 
could hear the churn of her propellers in the "eophone," 
or the "ears" of the submarine. Finally, we ventured to 
come up to the surface, and located the vessel we were after, 
about three miles away. Again we dived, and headed to- 
ward the spot. When we had arrived within striking dis- 
tance, the captain manoeuvered the submarine so that it 
would point in the proper direction, not at where the enemy 
then was, but at the point to which he would have traveled 
by the time the torpedoes reached him. The torpedo-tubes 
had been blown clear of water after the blunder, and had 
been charged with four torpedoes. The cap was turned 
so as to open two of the torpedo-tubes. When all was ready, 
the captain pulled a cord that admitted compressed air into 
the tubes just behind the torpedoes, and started them on 
their way. At the same time a lever in the tube sprang a 
trip on each torpedo that set the propeller motor running. 
The instant the torpedoes left us, our bow, relieved of their 
weight, which amounted to nearly two tons, sprang up, but 
was brought down very cleverly by the steersman, who 
manipulated the horizontal rudders. The other two tor- 
pedoes were then uncovered by turning the cap, and they 
were fired one at a time at the enemy. Then, having shot 
our bolts, we turned about, and beat a retreat to port. 

Every one was rather subdued on account of the blunder 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 211 

that had been made. "Was there really any danger?" I 
asked our guide. 

"Well, if we had kept on, we would have struck bottom, 
and if the water was a couple of hundred fathoms deep, the 
pressure would have crushed in the boat." 

"Were you ever in any serious accident?" 

"No, nothing that resulted seriously. 

"England, France, Germany, Russia, Italy, all of them 
have had terrible accidents; boats have been sunk, cut into^ 
set on fire and exploded; but so far Uncle Sam has escaped 
without the loss of a single submarine," said McDermott, 
reaching up and rapping on a piece of wood. "It looks as 
though it was a little more than mere chance that saved us, 
though we've come mighty near trouble once or twice. I 
was on the Porpoise once, when I thought my time had 
come. We were making a test off Newport to see how near 
we could bring the boat to perfect equilibrium. The water 
was let Into the tanks slowly, cutting Into our reserve buoy- 
ancy until there was practically none left. We were sub- 
merged and just barely floating, when all of a sudden we 
found the boat was going down by the head. We couldn't 
check It before it had sunk to the bottom, one hundred and 
twenty feet below the surface. The Porpoise was not able 
to withstand the pressure at that depth. Compressed air 
was blown Into her main ballast tank to force the water out, 
but instead of doing so the plating of the vessel began to 
leak, and water began to come Into the boat. There we 
were, trapped, nose-down into the mud, with one hundred 



212 With the Men Who Do Things. 

and twenty feet of black water overhead, squeezing us in 
its cruel grip with a pressure of three and one-half tons on 
every square foot. We could have stayed under twenty- 
four hours if necessary, and waited for help, if only the 
boat did not leak; but its seams were starting already, and 
letting in the salt water. That's the one thing we dread 
most in these boats. If the salt water reached the electric 
batteries, we were done for. The fumes of poisonous chlor- 
ine gas would pour out, and we would be put to sleep in a 
few minutes. With death staring us in the face, you can 
just bet we worked the handpumps for all we were worth, 
taking turns every few minutes so as to bring fresh muscles 
into the contest. My, how we did pump ! The leaks were 
growing so bad that we could make but little impression, but 
we kept plugging away. There was nothing else to do. 
After a time — I don't know just how long, it seemed years — 
we began to gain slowly on the water. The bow of the Por- 
poise began to lift. That encouraged us to put forth still 
greater effort, and slowly but surely the water was driven 
out of the ballast tank until the gauge showed that we had 
one hundred pounds buoyancy. The nose of our boat had 
been lifted out of the mud. Then our diving rudders were 
slanted up, and the electric motors were started, sending us 
up to the surface In a jiffy. The men up above didn't know 
what had happened. They said we had been under three- 
quarters of an hour, and they were beginning to grow much 
excited. That's the closest shave I ever had. In fact, I 
think it was the nearest thing to a real submarine accident 



Twenty Miles Under the Sea. 213 

we have ever had in the United States Navy, and I hope I 
never have to go through anything like It again." 

"Well, it was a closer shave than I would care for," 
said I. 

We were rapidly heading back to port now. It had been 
a great trip, and we had enjoyed it immensely, particularly 
the accident, so long as it had not resulted seriously. It 
added a thrill to our experiences that I could put in my story 
for the Sphere. It was a fine story, I know. There was 
lots of exciting interest in it. Bill went over it with me and 
strengthened the weak points. I am, sure it was the best 
article yet, but after reading it over for the fifth time, it 
occurred to me that it wasn't a very honorable thing to do, 
this making capital out of the blunders of others. It was 
not very patriotic, either, to tell the world of this lapse on 
the part of one of our men. "It seems like 'snitching,' " I 
said to Bill. 

"I don't know but you're right, Jim. Suppose we cut out 
that part about the involuntary dive, particularly as we 
have to send the article to the Navy Department before it 
is published." 

And so it happened that no mention of the accident ap- 
peared in the columns of the Sphere, 



CHAPTER XXI. 

MAKING SOAP FROM GARBAGE. 

It must not be supposed that, all this time, we refrained 
from taking in the amusements and shore resorts about the 
city. We took in all the sights from one end of Greater 
New York to the other, but I must admit that we found 
fully as much fun in studying the big engineering undertak- 
ings about the city as we did in Coney Island, although, of 
course, it was a totally different kind of fun — a more satis- 
fying kind. All the time we were on the watch for good 
stories for the Sphere. Most of our experiences were far 
from exciting, and certainly not worth recording here. Bill 
always had his sketch book and camera along to add interest 
to the stories. Among the various topics we wrote upon 
were the power stations in Manhattan and Brooklyn, the 
fire department of the city, the sewage system, street clean- 
ing and disposal of garbage and ashes. This last topic we 
found exceedingly interesting. For instance, we discovered 
that there were more than thirteen hundred miles of streets 
in New York that had to be kept clean, and there was an 
army of sixty-five hundred men employed to sweep these 
streets and keep them free of refuse. If all the garbage and 
ashes and street sweepings in the entire city were dumped 
into Broadway in a single year's time, the street would be 

214 



Makmg Soap froin Garbage. 215 

buried all the way from Bowling Green to Twenty-third 
Street, a distance of two miles, to a depth of a hundred feet. 
We got our facts from the Street Cleaning Department. 
We even went up with one of the scows to RIker's Island, 
and saw them unloading the stuff and making new land with 
it. It is astonishing what a variety of materials there was 
in that ashes. Old mattresses and bed springs were the 
bulkiest objects. Then there were paper boxes, rags, old 
dresses and hats, rubber, tin cans, bottles, and a hundred 
and one things. Of course, only ntaterials from the ash cans 
and the street sweepings were used in this way. It would 
not do to make land with garbage or any material subject 
to decay. 

"Out in the country," said the street cleaning official who 
was showing us around, "garbage Is fed to the pigs and the 
far-mer gets it all back in the shape of pork and bacon. Un- 
fortunately, we cannot get hogs enough to eat up the hun- 
dreds of tons of garbage that come from New York's hun- 
dreds of thousands of kitchens every day. We used to load 
the stuff in barges and dump It far out at sea, but the sea 
instead of swallowing the stuff, would cast It up on the shores 
of the summer resorts. Then we tried burning the garbage, 
but It is an expensive job and we haven't made a success of 
it yet. Now we dispose of the stuff, to a plant that turns it 
into soap," 

"Soap," I exclaimed, "soap out of garbage!" 
"Well, not exactly that. They get oil out of it and sell 
the oil to soap manufacturers, and what's more, you have 



2i6 with the Men Who Do Things. 

surely used some of the soap, for it is one of the most pop- 
ular brands in the country." 

That was interesting indeed, and I could see a good story 
for the Sphere in it. It would be great to stay by a scow 
of garbage, following it from the dumps to the plant, and 
then follow the material through the plant to the point 
where the oil was extracted from it. We had to get a per- 
mit from the main office of the plant. 

The next evening after dark found us aboard a tug tow- 
ing a string of three barges down the river. The towing is 
always done after dark in summer time, out of deference to 
the people at the shore resorts who do not like the sight 
and smell of the garbage scows. The smell, by the way, 
was not unendurable. Of course, they were not rose gar- 
dens, by any means, but the garbage was well sprinkled 
with chloride of lime, which killed most of the odors. At any 
rate, we didn't mind the smell very much. 

It was a long, weary night, particularly after eleven, when 
we had passed through the Narrows and out into the lower 
bay. The moon had sunk behind the Staten Isknd hills, 
and a heavy fog settled down upon us, so that we could see 
absolutely nothing out upon the water. Even the lights on 
the scows behind us were hidden from view. Under the cir- 
cumstances, there was nothing to do but stop and wait for 
better weather. The- engines of the tug ceased their pound- 
ing, and we lay to, listening for warning signals. The tide 
was low, and we would have to wait a couple of hours any- 
way before we could enter Jamaica Bay and run up th« 



Making Soap from Garbage. 217 

channel to Barren Island, where the garbage plant was lo- 
cated. We listened intently for other fog-bound craft. Off 
to the right we could hear a bell buoy tolling dolefully, and 
the fog horn of a lighthouse blaring forth periodically. 
After a time, we heard the approach of a vessel that was 
tooting its whistle at regular intervals. Presently we heard 
the churn of its paddle wheels, and the rag-time music of a 
string band. Then very unexpectedly there loomed up out 
of the fog a belated Coney Island steamer, headed directly 
for us. There was intense excitement for a few minutes, 
with much shouting and some screaming, but the excursion 
boat backed away from us in safety, only to come within an 
ace of striking one of the garbage scows. 

"Holy mackerel I" I heard one man exclaim, "what a 
death! There's garbage and swill on every side." 

Tliere was much merriment at our expense, until the ex- 
cursion boat drifted away in the fog out of sight and hear- 
ing. That was the nearest approach to excitement that we 
had that night. Now and then we would hear the whistle 
of a vessel, but nothing came in sight. After a while we 
grew tired and lay down to sleep. I was awakened just 
before dawn to find that we had reached the island and were 
docking our barges. Five other barges had arrived just 
after we did, making a string of eight heavily-loaded scows, 
twenty-one hundred tons in all. It certainly would take an 
army of hogs to devour that stuff every day I 

The tug put us ashore, where we had to wait an hour be- 
fore the six o'clock whistle blew and work in the big plant 



21 8 With the Men Who Do Things, 

started up. The garbage was taken out of the scows, and 
up into the plant on endless conveyers. A trough was 
dropped down on the scow, and this led up to the plant. 
Over this trough an endless chain travelled. The chain 
was shaped like a rope ladder, with metal blades in place of 
rungs. A gang of Italians shovelled the garbage upon the 
trough, and the blades pulled the stuff along until it reached 
the end of the trough, where it dropped into another con- 
veyer that carried it on up into the building. I saw one of 
the Italians pick up something out of the garbage and wipe 
it on his shirt sleeve. It was a silver bread knife. He bit It 
to see if it was the real thing, and then put it In a pot at his 
feet. Then I noticed that all the men had treasure pots 
ready for such prizes as they could pick up, and they were 
watching the garbage like hawks, hoping to profit by the 
carelessness of the householder. Several prizes were picked 
up during the morning, but they were mostly plated forks 
and spoons. 

"Last year," said the chief engineer of the works, "one 
of the men found a ring with three large diamonds In It." 

"How In the world did such a thing get Into the garbage," 
we asked. 

"Oh, I don't know," he said, "maybe Madam took off 
her ring and laid it on the kitchen table while she washed her 
hands and then forgot all about It. The maid may have 
swept the crumbs and scraps off the table into the garbage 
can without noticing that the ring was among them. Then 
I suppose the girl was fired for stealing her mistress's ring." 




THE DIGESTERS IN WHICH THE GARBAGE IS COOKED. 







im^^Miiiir'' '"^ 






....^',- .^^ 


^^^-*ti s^ 


►_ 




fc C ^<if 


^--^— ^.^ 


/^ 


^^ 




f liiii'iMli 1 1 JM 




' %i^y^ 


Limk:"' 


11 

a 


^ ** '. Ulsii^^ "" ' 





THE DRY RESIDUE USED FOR FERTILIZER. 



Making Soap from Garbage. 219 

"But didn't you return the ring?" asked Bill. 

"Oh, no, we couldn't attempt to do that. It would be too 
hard to locate the owner. We always let the men keep 
what they find. At this time of the year," he went on, 
"we frequently get fruit that has been condemned by the 
carload, but by no means is all of It bad, and then the men 
have a feast. But we never let them carry the stuff off the 
premises, so that there is no danger of re-selling any fruit 
to the public once it has found its way into the garbage pile." 

The conveyor passed through a low shed in which were 
several boys watching the garbage as it travelled by them 
and picking out all the tin cans and bottles they could see. 

"If we could only get people to stop throwing such stuff 
into the garbage cans," said the superintendent with a sigh, 
"our bills for repairs would be cut in two. The tin cans, 
we find, are turned into sash weights and the bottles are 
sorted out. Those with the name blown in the glass are 
sold back to the owners, but the others are sent to glass 
manufacturers, who melt them up into new glass bottles." 

On entering the main building, the garbage was dumped 
into huge boilers and cooked for ten hours by letting in 
steam in direct contact with it. At the end of that time, the. 
stuff was reduced to a sort of thick brown soup which had a 
peculiar sweetish odor like burnt molasses, I thought; but 
Mr. Brown said it had the "fragrance of caramel and 
coffee." "Fragrance," mind you I How could such a word 
be applied to that stuff ? True, the odor was not really bad 
at first, but Its association with garbage disgusted us and the 



220 With the Men Who Do Things, 

persistence of it sickened us. We couldn't get away from 
it anywhere. It grew upon us so that before we left the 
island we were nearly overcome with nausea. 

But to return to the garbage soup, it was put in large 
hydraulic presses to squeeze the juices out. A quantity of 
the steaming mass was dumped upon a piece of burlap. 
Then the four sides of the burlap were folded over the gar- 
bage and a frame of wooden slats was placed on top. Over 
this another piece of burlap was laid to receive the next 
charge of garbage. . After a dozen or more of the burlap 
bags were filled the whole tier was placed under the press 
and squeezed for hours, while the thick brown liquor oozed 
out and poured through pipes to the separating vats. 

"I suppose most of that water comes from the steam," 
I ventured. 

"Some of it, yes. But there is an astonishing lot of water 
in garbage. Out of a hundred pounds of garbage, not 
thirty pounds is solid. All- the rest is water with maybe two 
or three pounds of oil. It Is that two pounds of oil that 
we are after." 

"But how does It happen that the garbage is so wet?" 

"Why, my dear boy, don't you know that the fruits and 
vegetables are nearly all water. You would think that milk 
is about our wettest food, but there is more water in cucum- 
bers, or turnips, or strawberries than in milk. When your 
mother buys a pound of beef, litttle does she think that 
fully three-quarters of her purchase is water. Even flour 
has water in it. Ordinary wheat flour Is twelve per cent. 



Making Soap from Garbage. 221 

water, and when It Is made into bread It Is nearly half water. 
You would hardly think now, would you, that there Is more 
water In cucumbers than In grapes, but grapes have no more 
water In them than apples have, while cucumbers are nearly 
all water. If you analyze a cucumber you will find that It 
contains ninety-five per cent, of water, while milk has only 
eighty-six per cent, water, and grapes only eighty per cent. 
So you see there is plenty of water in garbage." 

Bill nudged me. "Good stuff for the article," he said, 
and I jotted down the figures in my note-book. 

The material that came from the presses seemed perfectly 
dry, but Mr. Brown told us that there was still some oil in 
the stuff, which they extracted by dissolving It with naphtha 
and then distilling the naphtha. 

Out in the evaporating room there was an electric pump 
that sucked the oil off the surface of the water and there 
were men there with long handled scoops to skim off the oil 
that the pump failed to get. The dry stuff that came from 
the presses was put in large cylindrical screens and revolved 
slowly to sift out the finer particles. The sifted material 
was sold to the fertilizer manufacturers to be mixed with 
fertilizer materials, and they in turn sold it to the farmers. 
"And so you get back on your table. In fruit and vegetables, 
the nutriment that Is thrown away In the garbage cans in 
New York," said Mr. Brown. "But there is one very funny 
thing about the stuff that is thrown Into the garbage. It Is 
supposed to consist of nothing but food remnants, meat, 
vegetable and fruit refuse. But we get everything. Look 



222 With the Men Who Do Things. 

at that cylinder there. It has been put out of commission 
and is laid aside for repairs." 

We looked it over curiously. It was fairly bristling with 
wires. "Whatever did that?" we inquired. 

"Don't you recognize them?" asked Mr. Brown. "They 
are hair pins." 

"Hair pins!" 

"Yes, there are thousands of hair pins thrown into those 
garbage cans. They won't pass through the screen, because 
they are doubled over. One leg goes through one hole, 
and the other through another, and there they are caught. 
It does not take long to clog up a cylinder with hair pins, 
and then all you can do is to go over them with wire clippers 
and snip them off by hand." 

Our course through the factory brought us back to the 
scows. Several of them had been unloaded and they were 
being scrubbed and whitewashed. 

"We do that every day ar they would soon smell so badly 
that we wouldn't dare tow them down the bay," Mr. Brown 
explained. 

"Oh, there comes a steamboat," exclaimed Bill. "Does 
it stop here?" 

"Yes, if you signal for It." 

"Come on then, Jim, I am going aboard." 

"But where does It run to?" I inquired. 

"I don't know, I have got to get away. You'll excuse us, 
Mr. Brown, but this sickening smell Is too much for me. 
You have been awfully good to show us around," 




STEAM PREiS FOR EXTRACTING THE JUICES FROM THE GARBAGE. 




STEAM PRESS OPENED FOR REMOVAL OF THE DRY RESIDUE. 



Making Soap from Garbage. 223 

Mr. Brown laughed good naturedly as Bill ran off to 
signal to the boat. "I stay here, day in and day out, and 
never notice the odor. You can get used to anything, you 
know." 

"I didn't mind It when I first landed," I said; "but it is 
such a sickish sweet smell that it nauseates me. I'll be just 
as glad as Bill to get away from here." 

The persistence of that odor was most remarkable. It 
stayed by us for days. Everything we ate seemed to be 
tainted with sickish odor of boiled garbage. 

When I turned in my story to the Evening Sphere the 
Editor suggested that I follow It up with an account of 
another plant on Barren Island where carcasses of dead 
animals are disposed of; but nothing could induce us to go 
again within a mile of that spot. 



CHAPTER XXII. 
CAUGHT IN THE JAWS OF A BUCKET DREDGE. 

A fruit steamer lay at her dock in the East River taking 
on a cargo of case oil and gasoline when a serious fire broke 
out. To prevent the fire from spreading to the dock and 
other shipping the steamer was towed out into the stream. 
The fire boats pumped such a deluge of water into the ves- 
sel that it sank off shore in thirty-eight feet of water. 

The wreck could not have been sunk in a more unfavor- 
able position. The bottom on which it lay was covered with 
boulders, which at that point formed a pocket about eight 
feet deep. This meant that the vessel would have to be 
raised at least ten feet before it could be towed to a posi- 
tion more favorable for wrecking operations. It lay right 
in the path of shipping, and at a point where the tides were 
so strong that work was limited to the periods of slack water 
at high and low tides. 

This fire occurred early in the spring, but it was well 
toward the end of the summer before the work of raismg 
the vessel, pumping It out, and delivering it to the owners 
was completed. 

One day, as we were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, we 
saw a smoke stack and a couple of short masts sticking out 
of the water while a couple of barges and several odd-look- 
ing boats were grouped around them. 

224 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 225 

"It's a wreck, Jim," exclaimed Bill, excitedly; "and they 
are trying to raise it." 

"Yes, and we must get over there and see how they are 
going about it." 

We found a man on South Street who, for a small sum, 
was willing to take us over to the barges in a launch. The 
visit proved well worth while. The wrecking outfit con- 



^jroPTimerR to kmp 
POH-roaM* ON «« 
SEVEN KEKI. 




FIG. 25. A PONTOON CUT AWAY TO SHOW THE CHAIN WELL. 

sisted of six pontoons, three on each side of the sunken 
vessel, and two steam barges, the latter furnishing the steam 
for the pumps on the pontoons. The pontoons were pro- 
vided with chain wells, of the form shown partly broken 
away in Figure 25. The wells were of flat, triangukr form 
flaring out at the bottom, which was open to the water, so 
as to allow for the sweep of the chain. There were four 
such wells to each pontoon, and the chains passed from the 



226 



With the Men Who Do Things. 



pontoons on one side of the vessel under the hull and 
through the pontoons on the other side. Beside each chain 
well a short mast was provided with fall and tackle by which 
the slack of the chain could be taken up. The chains as 
they emerged from the wells passed through planks ful- 
crumed at one end and arranged to be lifted by hydraulic 
jacks at the other end. The chains after being drawn up 
taut by the tackle were fastened to the planks by means of 




FIG. 26. HOW THE CHAINS WERE PASSED UNDER THE WRECK. 



toggles or U-shaped pins fitted under the chain links, and 
then the hydraulic jacks were operated to raise the planks so 
that all the chains would pull evenly and alike. 

As the pull of the wreck on the chains would tend to draw 
the pontoons together they were kept at the proper distance 
apart by means of- beams known as "spreaders." There 
were also top timbers that ran across the wreck from pon- 
toon to pontoon, and were fastened to the pontoons by 
means of chains that passed around their hulls as shown in 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 227 

Figure 26. This served to keep the pontoons on an even 
keel. 

Had the vessel rested on a soft bottom It would have been 
a simple matter for divers to pass the chains under it. The 
chains could have been lowered under the bow and then 
worked back and forth until they reached the desired posi- 
tion, but as the wreck rested on boulders such a course was 
impossible. It was essential to get the chains under at fixed 
points opposite the chain wells on the pontoons, and this 
made it necessary to blast channels under the wreck through 
which small chains could at first be passed and then be used 
to force the heavier chains through. The divers could not 
work at the bottom when the tide was running, as it was 
strong enough to sweep them off their feet. In the short 
Intervals of slack water but little could be accomplished, and 
so the work dragged on month after month. 

"We had her already to move yesterday," said one of the 
men. "She was coming up fine with the tide when a tug 
came by and kicked up such a swell that two of our chains 
snapped; and then we had to do all of our work over again." 

"What do you mean about the tide raising her? I thought 
you lifted it with the hydraulic jacks." 

"Oh no, we couldn't do that. It would be too hard to keep 
all the chains pulling alike. It is much easier to let the tide 
do the work for us. At slack tide we let water into the pon- 
toons until they sink as far as practicable. Then we take 
up all the slack In the chain and work the hydraulic jacks 
so that each chain does Its share of the work. If too much 



228 With the Men Who Do Things. 

weight came on one chain it would snap in two, but if we 
divide up the weight between them evenly they are plenty 
strong enough for the job." 

"I suppose you use instruments to measure the pull on 
each chain so as to be sure that it is not too great?" I ven- 
tured. 

"Instruments," he grunted contemptuously. "No. Judg- 
ment — practical judgment based on years of experience in 
wrecking. What's the use of bothering with instruments 
when I can tell at a glance just how each chain is pulling. 

"After the chains are all adjusted," he continued, "we 
pump out the pontoon and up comes the ship, but not as far 
as we should like because she is lying in a sort of pocket, 
so we wait for the tide to lift her some more. She was 
just high enough to clear the pocket yesterday when that 
pesky old tug came along and started her to rocking. That 
put the chains to an awful strain, and then she pounded on a 
boulder and crushed two of the chains." 

"But what are you going to do when you clear the 
pocket?" Bill asked. 

"Tow her off to shallower water until she grounds, then 
at next slack water get a lower hold on her and tow her 
off again. When we get her where her decks are clear we 
will close all the ports, pump the boat dry, and float her to 
a dry dock where she can be fixed up as good as new." 

Off at one side of the barge there was a large box with a 
couple of big hand wheels mounted at each side, which two 
men were turning. From the box a black rubber hose led 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 22<) 

down into the water. We realized that this was the pump 
that was feeding air to a diver in the black water below. 
Over the rail leaned a man holding a rope. He was very 
intent upon his business, and somehow we didn't feel like 
questioning him. As we watched, there were several jerks 
on the line. Then the man at the rail began to haul up 
the rope slowly. 

"What's he doing?" we inquired. 

"Haulin' up a diver," was the terse reply of one of the 
men at the pump. 

"Don't they swim up?" I asked. "They used to tell me 
that a diver kicks off his lead shoes and floats right up to 
the surface." 

The fellow grunted. "What's the use of losing a pair of 
shoes every time he comes up?" 

While we were talking a brass dome emerged from the 
water, and presently the diver dragged himself heavily up 
the ladder and aboard the barge. A curious looking object 
he was. We had seen pictures of divers before, but never 
a real live one, and we ran over to inspect him more closely. 
The heavy rubber suit inflated with air made him look 
enormously fat, while his hands, which were beefy red 
because they were squeezed so tightly by the wrist bands of 
his suit, seemed disproportionately small. His feet were 
encased in heavy leaden-soled shoes, and around his waist 
he carried a lead-weighted belt, but the oddest thing was 
the big brass helmet with the three little round windows 
in it. 



230 With the Men Who Do Things. 

The tender unscrewed the little window or face plate in 
the front of the helmet, then he removed the heavy belt 
and shoes, unscrewed the thumb screws that held the helmet 
down to a shoulder plate on the diver's suit and lifted the 
helmet off his head. The face that greeted us, small, thin 
and topped with a brush of fiery red hair, was all out of 
keeping with our notions of what a diver ought to look like. 

"Aren't you going down again?" I asked him, by way 
of introducing conversation. 

"Not now, the tide Is too strong," he said as the tender 
undid the gasket around his shoulders and began to pull off 
the rubber suit. The suit had only one entrance — that at 
the neck. 

"Say Bill," I whispered, "how would you like to try it?" 

"It would be great. I wonder if they would let us." 

"It would make a fine story for the Sphere. We shall 
have to work it somehow." 

The diver sat down on a box, pulled out a clay pipe and 
filled it with strong, black tobacco, lighted it, and settled 
back comfortably in a cloud of evil smelling smoke. We 
saw that he was in a mood to talk, and so we began to 
ply him with questions. He had some wild yarns to recount 
about his own experiences, and those of his fellow divers. 
He told about a man who had gone down to repair a leak 
in a dam and had been sucked into the hole himself and 
held there by the pressure of the water. Try as they would, 
they couldn't get him out before he died a lingering death. 
He told about divers who had perished because their air 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 231 

pipes were jammed or cut, of men who had been injured 
by falling objects, of men whose air valves had stuck and 
their suits had become so greatly inflated that they had 
bobbed up to the surface like cork, much to their discomfort, 
because it is necessary to come up slowly and adjust oneself 
to the change of air pressure, just as when coming out of a 
caisson. There were so many accidents that might happen 
to a diver that we began to think it might not be such a lark 
to try it after all. 

Some of his stories were quite remarkable, especially two 
adventures which had taken place right there in the East 
River. He was working on a job one day when he was 
called over by an excited man who said that a diver had gone 
down into a sewer, and had failed to answer any signals. 
Our narrator told how he went down into the river and had 
entered that sewer which was so inky black that he couldn't 
see a thing, how he had groped along the other fellow's life 
line and finally stumbled across him lying prone on his back. 
He signaled to him, in the diver's usual way, by slapping 
his helmet, and the man apparently was conscious because 
he replied to the signal, but when he urged him to come on 
out he couldn't make the fellow budge. After awhile the 
fellow was induced to start for the entrance to the tunnel, 
but only took a few steps before he balked, sat down again 
and refused to move. Our man was a small one and unable 
to drag the big husky Scandinavian lying at his feet, so he 
returned to the surface. Everyone was in a quandary as to 
what should be done, but while they were talking it over the 



232 With the Men Who Do Things. 

signal came from below to haul on the life line, and the man 
was pulled to the surface. When he was questioned as to 
what was the matter he couldn't give a very clear account of 
things. He said he had seemed dazed down below and 
couldn't quite remember things. Then It was discovered 
that he had filled up with whiskey before descending Into 
the sewer, and that while under pressure the whiskey took 
effect, making him dead drunk, although he was perfectly 
sober when he started down, and on his return to the surface. 

The other experience referred to made a very thrilling 
yarn, and I am not sure that It wasn't all pure fiction, al- 
though a number of men who have had much to do with 
divers have assured me that it was by no means an Impos- 
sible adventure. 

Our narrator began his story with the following question : 
"This water looks purty dirty around here, don't it?" 

"It certainly does," agreed Bill. 

"Well now, why shouldn't It? Look at all the sewers 
that empty into it year In and year out, and the stuff ain't 
got no chance of gettin' away." 

"But doesn't the river carry It out to the sea?" 

"What river?" . 

"This river. This Is the East River, isn't it?" 

"This ain't no river- It's nothin' but a channel connectin' 
Long Island Sound with New York Bay." 

"But don't the tides carry the stuff off?" 

"Tides nothin'. They had a float here this summer and 
kep' track of It night and day. It traveled one hundred and 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 233 

eight miles in three days, and when they picked it up it 
wa'n't a mile from where it started. So you see how much 
the tide clears out these waters. 

"Well, as I was sayin', this water gets so full of stuff 
out of them sewers that they has to dredge out the slips 
every once in a while. There is a power house over there 
where you see them chimneys and they takes in water from 
the river for their condensers. The water is so foul and 
choked up their intake so frequent that they decided the 
only thing to do was to put in another intake. I was down 
there last year on the job of cutting through a concrete 
wall." 

"How could you do that under water?" 

"Oh, I had an air drill and " 

"But can you work an air drill under water?" 

"Oh, yes, we run the exhaust pipe up to the surface so 
it don't choke with water. I drilled a row of holes through 
the concrete and then split it off with a ram. On the other 
side of the dock they was doin' some dredging." 

"A suction dredge, I suppose," volunteered Bill. 

"Naw. They don't use them around here. This was a 
clam shell dredge. You've seen 'em, ain't ye. The bucket 
is like two clam shells, wide open when it goes down, and 
then when it strikes bottom they spring a trigger and the 
shells snap shut and take a big bite out of the mud. Well, 
they had stopped dredging for a bit and when I was down 
below it struck me I'd like to see how they was gettin' along 
with the work, so I strolled over between the piles. It was 



234 With the Men Who Do Things. 

purty dark down there, and I couldn't see more than a few 
feet ahead. If the dredge had been workin' the water would 
have been so riled I couldn't ha' seen a foot. Well, I stood 
there leanin' against a broken-off pile, resting a bit, and 
trying to see what there was to see. I must have set there 
quite a spell musin' and dreamin', when all of a sudden 
a great big black thing come down over me. By gracious! 
I thought it was a whale! Before I had time to think 
It had me in its mouth and was liftin' me off my feet. It 
had a grip around my waist. My! how it bit. I thought 
I would be cut in two. Then I found the broken pile was 
caught in the jaws with me, and that was all that saved me. 
I couldn't see a thing, everything was as black as night. 
The water was all riled up. Then I heard the rattle of 
machinery, and I knew that it was a clam shell bucket as 
had me. It was the greatest bit of luck that the pile was 
picked up with me, but in another minute my hose would be 
torn off and then I'd smother in the black mud that was 
pouring down over me. I was saying my prayers and kick- 
ing my feet for all I was worth when I come up to the sur- 
face. I could see out between the jaws of the bucket that 
I was out of water, and I kept my feet going so as to attract 
attention. 'Now they're swinging you over the scow,' I 
sez, 'and then they'll dump you in and you'll be drowned 
In the mud' I could feel the hose tightening up, and she 
was just ready to break when the bucket begun to go down, 
not in the scow, but back into the water again. Then 'fore 
I knew it the jaws opened and I fell gaspin', and pretty sore 



'it had me in its mouth and was liftin' me off my feet." — See page 234. 




A MAZE OF SAFETY DEVICES ON THE DISTRIBUTING FRAME. 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 235 

around my waist. 'Cheer up, old man,' I sez; 'you're not 
dead yet,' and I begun to crawl. I didn't dare give a pull on 
the life line for fear they might begin to haul me in and 
catch my hose somewheres in the piles, so I just groped 
along, using the line as a guide, and made my way back. 
Then I laid down to rest a bit and after a while — it seemed 
like hours but it couldn't ha' been more 'n a minute or two 
— I woke up ! 'Tim,' I sez, 'you've been dreamin'. You 
was never picked up by a dredge or you wouldn't be alive 
now.' 'Go on,' I answers, 'if that wa'n't a dredge, what 
gave you such a sore stummick?' It took me a long time to 
crawl back to the other side of the dock and then I gave 
'em the signal to pull me up. Gee, but I was glad to see 
daylight. When I got up on the dock the man in charge of 
the dredge was there. 'Say, old man,' he sez to me, 'you 
had a narrer escape, that time,' he says; 'but you're some 
kicker, you are. Ef you hadn't kep' your legs amoving I 
would never ha' seen ye and lowered ye down, but don't tres- 
pass on my property again,' he sez. 'No danger,' sez I. 

"I took an hour to rest before going down again." 

"You don't mean to say you went down again, that day," 
I gasped. 

"Sure, why not? My tender give me a good rub-down, 
and then I was all right." 

"Say, could I go down in a diving suit?" I ventured. 

"You?" His grin piqued me. 

"I am not afraid." 

"You may think different when you get the helmet on" 



236 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"He's game," put in Bill in my behalf. "Shall I get 
the suit?" 

"What, now, in this tide? Look here, sonny, I come up 
'cause the tide was runnin' too strong. Besides it's about 
forty foot deep here, and that's a little too much for a 
starter." 

"But," I pleaded, "I don't have to go all the way to the 
bottom. Can't I land on the wreck instead?" 

"Not till slack water, anyway." 

"When will that b.e?" 

"In about four hours." 

"Can I then?" 

"We'll see how your nerve holds out." 

Four hours is a long time to keep up one's nerve. Mine 
was ebbing fast when in the afternoon we returned to the 
barge, but I put on a brave front and didn't let anyone know 
how I really felt. 

It was Tim's suit that I put on. I have already described 
the suit, but I was astonished to find how heavy the leaden 
shoes were. I could hardly move with those weights on my 
feet. But I had to walk to the side of the barge, climb 
down a ladder, and lean over the gunwale while they 
strapped the leaden belt around my waist. It weighed eighty 
pounds, and I had still to carry the weight of the brass 
helmet. When the helmet was put over my head, the face 
glass was out so that I was able to breathe naturally and 
talk to Bill and the tender while the corselet was being fast- 
ened down with thumb screws. 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 237 

"Now, sonny, how's your nerve?" Tim asked me, with 
a grin." 

It was just about gone, but I gritted my teeth and an- 
swered "All right. How long are you going to let me 
stay down?" 

"It's up to you, we'll haul you up when you give us the 
signal," and he started screwing in the face plate. 

"But what is the signal?" I gasped. He didn't hear me. 
I clutched at his hand, and made it evident that I was not 
ready to be bottled up yet. 

"I thought you'd lose your nerve," laughed Tim as he 
removed the face plate. 

"No, I haven't," I snapped, "but how am I going to sig- 
nal to you if I don't know the signals?" 

"Don't you know them?" and he proceeded to explain 
the diver's signal language. 

"Hold on," I interrupted, "there is only one signal I 
need. What do you do when you want to come up." 

"Three jerks on the life line." 

"All right, clap on the face plate then." 

The face plate was screwed on tight and the pumps were 
started. I could hear the roar of inrushing air, pulsating 
slowly with each stroke of the piston. I was at the mercy 
of the pump now. I could feel my suit fill out with air. 
With difficulty I made my way down the ladder into the 
black oily water, but I grew lighter as I went down. In 
another minute I was immersed. The ladder ended abruptly. 
My groping foot could find no other rung. I thought the 



238 With the Men Who Do Things. 

ladder went all the way to the deck of the wreck, but evi- 
dently I was wrong- There was nothing to do but jump off. 
I lowered myself down hanging to the last rung with both 
hands, then I let go and dropped gently on the deck of the 
vessel. 

It wasn't such a bad experience so far. I couldn't see 
more than a few feet about me because the water was so 
muddy. I felt as if I were in a caisson. As a matter of 
fact I was in a caisson made of rubber instead of wood or 
concrete. The air I- had to breathe was that which filled my 
suit. At the back of the helmet there was a valve which 
let the air in from the pumps above, and at the side, one 
that let the air out when it exceeded a certain pressure, for 
which the valve had been previously set by the tender. As 
long as nothing happened to these valves I need have no 
qualms, but if they should be clogged I might have a very 
unpleasant adventure. I was a little afraid to move at first 
for fear of kinking the air hose and cutting off my supply, 
but I felt of it and found that it was very stiff and not liable 
to get into trouble under ordinary conditions. Another 
thing I was afraid of was that a projecting nail or some 
sharp point might cut through my rubber suit and rob me 
of my precious air. 

Well, here I was on the deck of the ship unable to see 
anything to speak of. What was I going to do? It occurred 
to me that it would be a good plan to grope around until 
I could find some object that I might bring up as a souvenir 
of the trip. Accordingly I began to creep along the deck 



Caught in the Jaws of a Bucket Dredge. 239 

feeling my way like a blind man. Once when I looked up 
I noticed a string of silver beads which seemed to be caught 
under a projecting ledge. But they were merely air bubbles 
from my own helmet that had lodged there. As I became 
more accustomed to the darkness I saw something under a 
board that looked like a brass pipe. May be it was a tele- 
scope. It would be just the thing for me, but it was tightly 
wedged under the plank. I worked away at the board 
trying to pry it off the object, when suddenly something 
toppled over and the plank shot up to the surface with me 
clinging to it. 

That was rather an ignominious ending to my first and 
only experience in a diving suit. I had meant to come up in 
approved style after giving the proper signal. But the men 
hauled me to the barge when they saw me come to the sur- 
face jand helped me out of my suit. The sudden change of 
pressure I had undergone in rising so quickly from the deck 
of the vessel to the surface pained my ears. 

"It's lucky for you," said Tim, "that your air pipe or 
life line wa'n't tangled when you come up. I've known of 
more 'n one person who has been caught that way. Once 
I was caught with my head down and so much air was 
pumped into my suit that my pantlegs filled out like balloons, 
and there I stayed. I had to signal cautiously for slack on 
the rope and the air pipe till my feet stuck out of the water 
and the tender seen me and come to get me In a row boat. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 
THOUSANDS TALKING AT ONCE. 

The subway was run down lower Broadway by the cut- 
and-cover method — that is, at night, when there was little 
or no traffic, the street pavement was ripped up, and in its 
place was laid a flooring of planks, supported on beams. 
Under this wooden street men worked during the day, dig- 
ging away the earth and sand, and propping up the beams as 
the excavation proceeded. 

Tunneling a city street is no simple task under any con- 
ditions. There were sewer-pipes, gas-pipes, water-pipes, 
electric light and power conduits, telephone, telegraph, and 
fire-alarm conduits, and the conduits for the underground 
trolley system of the electric cars, to be avoided. The gas- 
mains were elevated above the streets so that there would be 
no danger of an explosion, should they develop a leak. Of 
course, the manholes or underground chambers, where con- 
nections were made with the telephone-lines, had to be torn 
away, exposing the lead-sheathed telephone cables. To pro- 
tect these cables from the picks and shovels of careless la- 
borers, they were wrapped thickly with burlap. 

A telephone lineman was down under the planking one 
morning, making some new cable connections. He was 
pouring hot, melted paraffin on the splice to drive out all 

240 



Thousands Talking at Once 241 

moisture before covering it with lead, when some of the oil 
spattered over on his fire. Before he knew it, there was a 
lively blaze, which caught the burlap, melted the lead off 
the cables, and consumed the insulation of the copper wires 
within. Choking with smoke and the fumes of burning 
insulation, the lineman staggered out of the tunnel, yelling 
"fire." By the time the engines came up, the planking was 
burning briskly, and the firemen had their troubles getting 
this queer blaze under control. 

The fire was all out when Bill and I arrived on the scene. 
Pushing his way through the crowd as if he had the right, 
Bill led the way to the opening In the planking, and dis- 
appeared quickly down a ladder. I ran down after him 
Into the charred subway. It took several moments to adjust 
my eyes to the twilight below, and then the sight that met 
them was appalling. There were thousands and thousands 
of copper wires burned, torn, and fused together, and mat- 
ted with splashes of lead, all mixed up In the worst snarl 
Imaginable. How could such a tangle ever be straightened 
out? Did we but know It, hundreds of subscribers, at that 
very moment, were frantically rattling their receiver hooks, 
shouting for "central," threatening to report those stupid 
telephone operators, and sending by messenger to have their 
"pesky 'phones" attended to. 

Already there was a force of men at work trying to repair 
the damage. First they cut away the snarls, and then they 
tested each pair of wires Individually. A telephone circuit 
always consists of two wires twisted together, and so It was 



242 With the Men Who Do Things. 

easy to tell which two wires belonged to each other. Nev- 
ertheless, It was important to test each wire of a pair, to 
make sure that It was electrically sound. In order to Iden- 
tify the pairs at the central station, a wire of a certain num- 
ber would be grounded, and then the repairman, with a 
telegraph battery and relay connected to ground, would 
search through the wires until he found one which would 
make his telegraph Instrument click. Then he would secure 
that wire In an Index board, sticking it through a hole 
labeled with the number of the wire. 

We watched this numbering process for a time, but soon 
grew tired. It was so monotonous and so hopelessly slow. 
The men thought so themselves, evidently, because, after a 
time, the order came to connect up the wires in any way pos- 
sible, and they would be straightened out at the central 
station. There the cables would be cut again and the lines 
sorted out. 

After we had been there some time, and were starting off 
to luncheon, I noticed that a man was watching us rather 
curiously. 

"Hello," he said; "what are you doing down here?" 

"Just looking on," I answered. "There wasn't anybody 
to stop us, so we just came on down." 

"Well, I venture to say you never saw a sight like this 
before. I am sure I never did in all my telephone experi- 
ence. Seven thousand wires all matted like wool ! Not all 
telephone wires, either. We are In a general mix-up with 
the telegraph and fire-alarm circuits, too." 



Thousands Talking at Once. 243 

"I suppose this cripples the whole city," ventured Bill. 

"The whole city? Ha, ha, ha! The whole city, did you 
say? There are five hundred thousand telephones here in 
this city. You just look at a telephone directory. That will 
give you some idea of the enormous extent of New York's 
telephone system. Do you know, we print carloads of those 
directories every year, and, would you believe it, they use 
up seven tons of ink ! Why, you have no idea of what a lot 
of telephone wires there are buried In these streets. New 
York is a regular copper-mine. There are over seventeen 
million pounds of it and forty-four million pounds of lead in 
our cables." 

"I suppose it Is worth something, too." 

"Well, I should say so; something like twelve million dol- 
lars, all told." 

"It is lucky you have it all buried underground, or peo- 
ple would be stealing it," I remarked. 

"Unfortunately, it isn't all buried. Only our city wires 
run in conduits, and we have an underground long-distance 
line running from Boston to Washington. All the rest of 
our wires are out in the open, and now and then some of 
the copper is stolen; but that doesn't happen very often 
now; not since our experience with the wire thieves on the 
Jersey meadows. I suppose you read about It in the papers 
last month." 

We scented a good story, and urged the man to tell us all 
about it. 

"Well, it was the most exciting time we ever had with 



244 With the Men Who Do Things. 

wire thieves. 'Cy' Hummer earned his money that trip any 
way," he said, laughing heartily. "There had been a gang 
of thieves at work on that lonesome spot for some time. 
They had given us a lot of trouble, and we realized that 
something would have to be done. We knew just about 
where those fellows were most liable to play their little 
game, so we fixed up a little game of our own to match 
theirs. We have a private detective that beats any you ever 
heard of, and doesn't cost anything like as much. It is an 
innocent-looking little mahogany box that we put on the line 
when we suspect trouble. The box contains a telegraph 
relay, a dry-battery cell, and an electric bell. We ran a 
current of electricity from Newark over one of our bare 
copper wires to this detector, which was placed In Jersey 
City. Then we knew that, if the wire was cut, or if any 
other wire crossed it, or if there was any meddling what- 
ever, the alarm would go off in our Jersey City central, and 
immediately the news would be telephoned to the police at 
Jersey City and at Kearney. At each place there was an 
automobile standing ready to make a dash upon the thieves 
and head them off, no matter in which direction they tried 
to escape. We had some trouble in getting an automobile 
at Kearney, but a friend of mine finally located a farmer 
near by who had an old touring car. I went around with 
him to make the bargain. Cy Hummer, his name was, and 
he was a typical hayseed, a long, lanky fellow, chewing a 
straw when I saw him, just the kind of a chap that you see 
in the comic papers, but the queerest combination of nerve 




CONNECTING UP A TANGLE OF WIRES BACK OF THE RELAY BOARD. 



Thousands Talking at Once. 245 

and timidity I ever ran up against. I didn't believe that 
he could run a car until he took us out for a spin. Well, 
sir, the way he spun us around corners on two wheels, shot 
into town, dodged around the traffic, and then raced back 
to the farm at a fifty-mile clip, running down two hens and 
a stray dog, all the time chewing away at that straw as if he 
had nothing more exciting on hand than feeding the hogs — 
all that, I say, took my breath away, and when I staggered 
out of the back seat of that vehicle, I went up to him, and 
said, 'Mr. Cyrus Hummer, let me shake your hand. You 
certainly understand your business, and I must have you for 
this job. I will pay you eight dollars a night to stay with 
your rig at the police station, ready to take them out the 
instant you get the alarm, and while you are out on the job, 
you will get four dollars an hour extra.' You should have 
seen Cy Hummer's eyes open at the prospect of such wealth. 
'B-b-but, the thieves,' he sputtered. 'Oh, you need not worry 
about them,' put in my friend. 'The police will take care of 
them. All you need do is to drive the car. You'd better 
take the job, Cy; it's the easiest money you will ever see.' 
So Cy took the job, and he was there every night puttering 
about his machine for about two weeks. Then, about two 
o'clock one morning, on a particularly dark night, the alarm 
went off. Immediately our operator notified the Jersey City 
and Kearney police, and the game was on. In less than a 
minute, the Kearney men were tearing full speed down the 
road, following the telephone wires. Cy knew every inch of 
that road, like a horse. It was well he did, because it was 



246 With the Men Who Do Things. 

pretty dark, and, of course, the machine carried no lights. 
When they had covered about two or three miles, they made 
out a dark object that looked like a truck wagon, up along 
the roadside. The next instant there was a volley of shots 
which smashed the wind-shield to bits, and peppered the car 
with buck-shot. 'Stop the car and scatter,' cried the police 
sergeant, but Cy had already jammed on the emergency 
brakes and brought the car up with such a jerk that they 
were all but pitched out. Then the police ran for cover, 
but in the meantime a second volley caught them. The 
sergeant got a rifle-ball in the fleshy part of his back; one 
of his men got a load of shot in the calf of his leg, while 
the other man had a clean hole drilled through the lobe of 
his ear with a buck-shot. As for Cy" — here the narrator 
had a fit of laughing — "Cy tumbled down behind the dash- 
board the instant he jammed on the brakes; but he was not 
built right for that cramped shelter. His lanky legs stuck 
way out over the side, and a rifle-bullet cut through his 
trouser legs, just grazing his shins. The crippled police an- 
swered very bravely with their revolvers; but what could 
their little pea-shooters do against rifles and shot-guns? In 
another moment, the thieves had whipped up their horses 
and disappeared down the road. A quarter of an hour later 
the other police arrived, gathered up the wounded, and 
helped to restore Cy Hummer to his senses. Poor Cy! 
They went all over him carefully to see where he was hurt 
but much to his astonishment the only injury they could 
find was a wounded trouser-leg." 



Thousands Talking at Once. 247 

"But didn't the police head off the thieves?" I asked. 

"No, and I don't quite understand it. They didn't fol- 
low the telephone-line out of town, but took another road, 
and then when they heard the shooting, they struck back 
into the meadow road, but from the Kearney end. How- 
ever, we are on the track of the men now. We offered a 
reward at once, and only the other day a farmer reported to 
the Jersey City police that his neighbor's boys came in just 
before daybreak on the morning of the shooting with the 
horses all covered with perspiration, and they had two shot- 
guns with them. There was a man with them as well, 
who had a rifle, and, from the description, we have just 
about identified him as a lineman we 'fired' two years ago. 
We'll have them before long, and send them up the river 
for a term. They won't be the first, either. Those chaps 
have learned that it's dangerous to meddle with our lines. 
They are sure to be caught sooner or later. The same with 
our prepay stations. We used to have the cash-boxes robbed 
every once in a while, until we began putting in automatic 
alarms. Then we caught so many of the thieves that they 
soon gave up that kind of work as unprofitable. Some of 
the tricks they played were mighty ingenious." 

We were anticipating another interesting story, when our 
new acquaintance suddenly looked at his watch. 

"Great Scott! Lunch-time's almost up!" he exclaimed. 
"I'll have to chase out of here. Say, if you want to know 
something about telephoning, come around to my office. 
But don't turn up for a few days, until we get this mess of 



248 With the Men Who Do Things. 

wiring all straightened out," he said, handing us his busi- 
ness card. 

Bill and I had a long argument as to how many days "a 
few" meant. Finally, we decided that it could not very well 
be less than three, and so, on the third day, we boldly in- 
vaded the office door of Mr. Burt. 

: "Glad to see you, boys !" he said cordially. "I'm going 
to take you around myself. The best place to start in is at 
the bottom." Mr. Burt led us out to the elevator. We 
stopped off at the ground floor, and went down a flight of 
stairs to the basement, and into the cable vault. There was 
nothing to see here but forty or fifty lead-covered cables. 

"This is where the cables come in from the street," ex- 
plained Mr. Burt, "and run to the boards upstairs. There 
are six hundred pairs of wires in each cable, and they are 
just humming with talk." 

"What, those silent cables I" I ejaculated. It seemed 
absurd. The stillness In that vault was almost oppressive 
when its echoes were not disturbed by our voices and the 
scraping of our feet on the concrete floor. 

"Yes, they are just throbbing with life — hundreds, even 
thousands, talking at once. You know we Americans do 
more 'phoning than any other people on earth. Why, last 
year, we held fourteen and a half billion conversations, and 
that is two thirds of the telephone talks of the whole world. 
A pretty big share of those conversations took place right 
here in New York. There are twice as many telephones in 
this city as in all of France, and nearly as many as in the 



Thousands Talking at Once. 249 

wh'ole of Great Britain. There is a 'phone in this country 
for every twelve people. If only your ears were electrical, 
and you could hear all the electrical vibrations passing 
through those cables, you would find those silent lines a 
perfect babel of noise — a sample of every tongue on earth, 
from Chinese to Bulgarian, shouting and scolding, laugh- 
ing and weeping maybe. Very likely fortunes are being 
made and lost over these wires at this very moment, for 
we are very close to the financial district of the city. But 
we are stone-deaf to it all until the electrical waves are 
turned into air waves by the telephone receiver. Possibly 
some of these lines are carrying urgent messages as far as 
Chicago or St. Louis, or even Denver. By the way, I just 
figured out last night that it takes twenty carloads of copper 
to carry your voice from New York to Chicago. So, you 
see, ^minutes are precious on our long-distance lines, and 
when wire thieves cut our wires, the interruption of busi- 
ness means more to us than the loss of the copper." 

We stepped out of the cable vault into a room filled with 
coils and coils of cable and wire that reminded me of the 
tangle we had seen in the subway. Mr. Burt informed us 
that this was the wiring for the Manhattan Syndicate 
Building. 

"We used to do all the work at the building," he said, 
"but now we save time and expense by making our lay-out 
here, and then the whole cable, with all its tap-offs, is taken 
to the top of the building and dropped down the cable 
shaft. We have it so fixed that there are the proper out- 



250 With the Men Who Do Things, 

lets at each floor, so that all the men have to do at the 
building is to make the connections at each office, as re- 
quired. In a building like that, we have two hundred and 
thirty miles of telephone wiring, enough to reach from 
New York to Washington, and, as you can imagine, it takes 
some careful estimating to get the wires in just the right 
place." 

On the third floor of the building we saw how the cables 
open out into myriads of wires and are connected to a per- 
fect maze of safety devices on the distributing frames. Even 
here, the system was perfectly cold and silent, and it was 
difficult to realize the feverish activity that was throbbing 
through those "copper nerves," as Mr. Burt called them. 
The distributing frames fairly dazzled us with their 
complexity. 

"Will it sting me if I touch it?" asked Bill, reaching 
his finger to one of the contacts. 

He was rather daring, T thought, but Mr. Burt laughed. 
"Why, boy, you couldn't feel it. Don't you know that the 
telephone is one of the most delicate of Instruments? We 
use twenty-four volts to force the current through the miles 
of wire, but the talking currents themselves are so feeble 
that it takes a very sensitive apparatus to find them. They 
are measured In thousandths of an ampere, and you know 
what that Is, when you can get anywhere from six to thirty 
amperes out of an ordinary dry-battery cell." 

"But I got a pretty bad shock the other day," said Bill, 
"when I was using the 'phone. 



Thousands Talking at Once. 251 

"That was the ringing current. Somebody was trying 
to ring your bell while you had your hand on the binding 
posts at the ends of the receivers. We have to use a more 
powerful current to make the bell ring, but the telephone 
itself is so sensitive that we have to guard against any ex- 
cess of current. On this frame here we have lightning 
arresters, heat coils, and fuses that will melt through if 
too heavy a current should come over the wires, as, for 
instance, if any electric-light wires should happen to cross 
one of our wires. Over there on that frame, the wires are 
sorted out, arranged in groups, and connected with the 
switchboard above. Before we go up there, I will show 
you the battery room." 

There, for the first time, we began to see some life. Not 
in the batteries themselves — they were as dead as all the 
rest'of the system — but in a frame alongside, in which there 
were hundreds of little can-like boxes; "line and cut-off 
relays," Mr. Burt called them. They were clicking one 
after the other, here and there, all over the frame. Mr. 
Burt explained that these relays switched in the extra cur- 
rent to light the signal-lamps at the switchboard. 

"Now for the switchboards," said Mr. Burt, "the most 
interesting part of all," as he led the way to the floor above. 
When he opened the door, I imagined he had taken us into 
a beehive. There was a steady hum, like the droning of 
bees, It took me a minute or two to realize that the noise 
was the talking of scores, yes, hundreds of girls. We 
couldn't see them all at once, because the room was shaped 



252 With the Men Who Do Things 

like a [[, but as we walked on around, we found that 
the entire outer wall was lined with switchboards before 
which the girls were seated on high stools so close to each 
other that they nearly touched elbows. Each one had a 
receiver at her ear and a horn-shaped transmitter hanging 
before her mouth. That left both hands free to work, and 
those hands were certainly busy, picking up "plugs" on the 
ends of cords and sticking them into holes In the board In 
front of them. The cords were criss-crossed all over the 
board, while colored lights flashed up here and there, and, 
above all, that droning sound. If you stopped to listen to 
any particular girl, you could hear her saying, "Number, 
please," "Audubon 12953, Cortland 10476," "Line is 
busy," etc. 

"Looks pretty complicated, doesn't it?" 

"Well, rather," I exclaimed. "I can see that It would 
take a week of hard study to understand it all." 

"But it is really very simple, you know," said Mr. Burt. 
"If you could only forget that there are thousands of cir- 
cuits here, you would understand it very readily. It Is the 
repetition that makes It seem so complicated. Now, this 
switchboard Is divided Into two parts. We call one the 
'A' board; It takes up about two-thirds of the room, and 
the other is the 'B' board. Suppose you were a subscriber 
connected with this central, and wished to call up some one 
also connected with this central. As soon as you took your 
receiver off the hook, a lamp would light up somewhere on 
the 'A' board, and any one of three or four girls who were 



Thousands Talking at Once. 253 

nearest that lamp would put a plug on one end of a cord 
into the 'jack' of your circuit, and say, 'Number, please.' 
As soon as she received the number, she would put the plug 
on the other end of the cord into the jack, or hole, of the 
number you called. Now, that is simple enough, isn't it? 
You see, she has within her reach the lines of all the sub- 
scribers of this central station." 

"But suppose I wanted a subscriber in some other cen- 
tral?" 

"All right. Say you wanted five thousand and something 
Murray Hill. Your 'A' operator would repeat the number 
to a 'B' operator at Murray Hill. The 'B' operator would 
tell the 'A' operator to use trunk line No. 8, we'll say, and 
then would put the plug on the end of that trunk in the jack, 
or hole, bearing the number you called for." 

"Do you mean every girl has five thousand of those holes, 
or 'jacks,' as you call them, within reach without leaving 
her chair?" 

"Yes, ten thousand. In each panel there are seventeen 
hundred jacks, and each girl can cover six panels by reach- 
ing across her neighbors. The panels in sets of six are 
repeated many times all along the 'B' board, so that every 
'B' girl has access to every subscriber of her central station." 
■ "It isn't so very hard to understand, after all," I ad- 
mitted. 

"I thought you would find it simple, and it's quick, too, 
isn't it? In Paris, not long ago, a record was made of the 
time it takes to call up a subscriber, and the average was 



254 With the Men Who Do Things. 

found to be i minute 20.8 seconds. Here in New York 
the average is eleven seconds I It takes training to do that. 
We have schools for the girls, and we pay them while they 
are learning the trade. We have schools for boys, too, who 
want to go into the telephone business. When you graduate 
from college, you had better come around. We pay students 
well while training them." 

Bill was interested at once, and asked all sorts of ques- 
tions, but as for me, I kept quiet. I wasn't going to college. 
I had no rich Uncle Edward to help me out. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 
AN UNDERGROUND SWIM. 

"If ye mate me at O'Flaherty's, be the fut of 158th 

Sthreet, at ten to-nite, i'U sho ye a bit of kason work that 

ye dont vary ofen see. 

"Yur frind, 

"Danny Roach." 

It was a dirty piece of writing paper, scrawled over with 
pencil marks in characters that were well-nigh illegible, and 
grouped together in a brand of simplified spelling that was 
strictly home-made. But nevertheless we felt flattered to 
receive it, for in the sand-hog world, Danny Roach was 
looked upon as the dean of his profession. 

"Say, old man," said Bill, "there must be something 
pretty important doing, or Danny Roach would never 
bother to write. I'll bet you we get a fine story for the 
Sphere." 

Wc found the rendezvous without much difficulty. It 
was a dreadful night, pouring "daggers and doornails," and 
the brightly lighted saloon was the only cheery spot in the 
neighborhood. But it was a rough place, and looked far 
from inviting when we opened the door and found it filled 
with a noisy, boisterous gang, drinking foul stuff, smoking 
foul stuff and using foul language. Danny Roach was at 

255 



256 With the Men Who Do Things. 

the bar. Several scars on his face showed clearly the price 
he had to pay for running through fire under pneumatic 
pressure. 

"Come on in b'ys," he called when he caught sight of us. 
"Glad to see yez. Wad yez have a glass wi' me? Pwhat, 
not aven a glass o' beer. Thot's right, b'ys, thot's right," 
and he proceeded to give us the best temperance lecture I 
have ever heard. 

"Why do you drink, then?" queried Bill. Danny Roach 
dropped his left eyelid slyly, and said, "Ye wadn't deny an 
auld man his glass how and thin." 

He finished his drink, and we all sat down at a table in 
the corner, where he explained to us what was up. He told 
us that he was working on the caisson for an open shaft. 
They had an accident there a few days before. The shaft 
had been driven down to the rock, but the rock was seamy 
and they had to blast it out to a considerable depth in the 
endeavor to get a water-tight seal. The constant blasting 
had done much damage to the deck. The timbers were 
torn in splinters by the chips of rock fired against them 
with each explosion. The deck was considerably weakened 
and was not holding air very well. Unlike other caissons 
we were accustomed to there was no solid cement filling 
above the deck because the shaft was to be left open. Water 
was used instead, and through it the air from the working 
chamber bubbled freely. A man was set to work stopping 
the leaks with clay and oakum. He was a greenhorn, and 
when he heard the hissing noise of escaping air he moved 



An Underground Swim. 357 

tKe candle near the spot to find the leak. Immediately the 
air sucked the candle flame into a long tongue that licked 
through the crevice, setting fire to the deck. Utterly ob- 
livious of the mischief he had done, the fellow kept on 
puttying up the holes, now and then starting a new blaze, 
until of a sudden a danger signal sounded, "rat-tat, rat-tat, 
rat-tat-tat." When the men got out, they found a volume 
of heavy smoke pouring from the caisson. 

There was nothing to do but to drown out the fire by 
stopping the air pumps. Presently the water above the 
deck began to settle rapidly, showing that the fire had 
burned through the timbers. The fire was soon quenched, 
but that was only the beginning of the trouble. The prob- 
lem then was to get the water out. The compressors made 
little impression, for the holes in the deck were so large that 
air leaked out as fast as it was pumped in, the shafting was 
blown clear of water, and the water was forced down a few 
inches below the deck of the working chamber, but no mat- 
ter what they tried to do they couldn't clear any more of 
the caisson. 

"They've jist about given up in dishpair," said Danny 
Roach. "Last night O'Connell, the Superintindint, he tuk 
a lot av rats and thried to git thim to turn the thrick 
for 'im." 

"What's that!" we cried in amazement. 

"Yis, rats, Oi said. He had a dozen av thim. 'Danny,' 
sez O'Connell, "tis a great plan I have,' he sez. 'We'll 
thurn the rats loose and lit thim foind the holes fur us.' 



258 With the Men Who Do Things. 

Oi had the plisint job av holdin' thim cratur's be the heads 
with a thowel, whilst he tied a bunch av o-akum to ivery 
tail. Thin we tuk thim bastes down into the shafting wi' 
us and dhropped thim into the wather. Yez ought to seen 
thim rats shtrike out. They wint off loike Noah's dove, 
lookin' fur land, and dirictly foindin' none they made back 
fur the ladder. That's where our fun came in. Iviry 
toime a rat cam' near, we wad kick him back ag'in. It was 
great shport for a whoile. Thim rats was foine swimmers. 
'Look here, O'Connell,' Oi sez, 'Yur rats won't do the thrick 
for ye. We're just drowndin' thim.' 'Let thim drown, 
thin,' he says. 'We can't carry thim out.' 

"All of a suddint ivery one of thim rats disappeared, 
ivery mither's son av thim. They had been comin' up wan 
at a time, jist as nice as ye plaze, so we cud dhrive thim 
away agin widout inconvanience. But ye can't git ahead of 
a rat. There's not a woiser cratur' aniwhere. Thim rats 
got togither and hild a council av war, so to shpake, and 
thin desoided to rush the ladder. They came from all soides 
to wancet. Belave me, if ye niver f aught a rat, ye don't 
know how thim divils kin foight. We couldn't shtop thim. 
We didn't have a sh'tick or anythin', only our boots. But 
four boots and only two of thim workin' at a toime gin 
twelve rats was no match at all. We both kicked for all we 
wuz worth, till O'Connell fell aff the ladder into the wather. 
The bist we cud do was to kill foive of thim. The rist av 
thim run up over us fittin' and snappin' and on up a rope 
SO fast we couldn't shtop thim. 



An Underground Swim. 259 

. " 'Will, now yuVe done it, O'Connell,' Ol sez. 'How are 
ye goin' to git up?' He was cussin' so hard he couldn't 
answer me. Oi saw there wus only wan thing to do, and 
so Oi done it. Oi climbed up to the lock, expectin' thim 
rats to jump down on me any minit. Thin Oi histed up 
the door, shut me rats in the lock, knockin' the while fur 
Tim, the lock-tender, to lit thim out. He didn't know we 
had rats in the bag we tuk down wi' us, but Oi'd loike to 
have seen Tim's face when he opened the lock, expectin' to 
see me own sunlit face, whin sivin wet rats as big as Tom 
cats, jumped out at him, each wi' a bunch av oakum dhrag- 
gin' behoind. It was sich a shock, that he run aff fur help, 
and tawld the ither men how sivin divils had drownded 
me and O'Connell and thin changed thimselves into rats and 
flew aff whin he opened the lock. It was an hour before 
we cud git anywan t' come near enough to answer our sig- 
nals, and lit us out. O'Connell was pretty badly bit up and 
he's aff dooty to-night. Oi got a few scratches mesilf." He 
pointed to several ugly wounds on his neck and arms. 

"Now I have some schemes av me own, only Oi want 
somebody width brains to hilp me. Oi'd loike to have Bill 
tind to the lock, and Jim, you kin come down width me and 
we'll see ef we can't fix up the throuble." 

Bill didn't like this arrangement at all, and said so very 
emphatically. Finally it was settled that he was to go with 
us while Larry Doogan tended the lock. 

"Larry's got some brains," admitted Danny Roach, "and 
he ain't afraid av spooks." 



26o With the Men Who Do Things. 

It was after eleven when we got to the shaft. Danny 
hadn't told us what he was going to do, but presently we 
had a hint. When we got into the lock he removed his 
clothing and hung it on a projecting bolt. 

"You're not going to swim around down there," I said 
in some alarm. 

"Shure, and whoi not? If the rats cud do it, OI can, and 
Oi have brains, which they haven't." 

"But the dead rats," I said. 

"Oi'd rather have thim dead than alolve." 

"Well, you're welcome to the job," said Bill. "You don't 
want us to go in, too, do you?" 

"Oh, no," he said. "Yez can hand me the clay and the 
o-akum as 01 need it." 

We insisted on tying a rope to him and holding the end 
so that we could haul him in if necessary. We went down 
the ladder to the bottom of the shafting. The electric lights 
were out of commission and we had to use a candle. We 
could see by its uncertain light the black water fairly boiling 
with the air that was forced through it. The water was 
actually within four inches of the deck. How anyone had 
the nerve to swim under there in the dark with only four 
inches of breathing space, was more than I could compre- 
hend. Just then Danny plunged in. In a moment he came 
up again, treading water. "Come on In, the wather's foine," 
he said. 

"Not on your life," I answered, and I meant every word 
of it. "The pleasure's all yours," 



An Underground Swim. 261 

."Gimme a lump of clay," said Danny. Then, swimming 
on his back, he disappeared under the black deck, his head 
almost scraping the timber. I held the candle close to the 
water to give Danny at least a flicker of light, at the same 
time taking care to keep it clear of the oakum we had on 
hand. I caught sight of a dead rat floating in his wake. 
The siglit was grewsome. We uttered not a word, but 
listened in breathless suspense. Then we heard Danny 
chuckle, and in a moment he was back again. "Gimme 
some more clay," he cried. 

"Did you stop any leaks?" 

"Shure," he said. "Ye nadn't use that candle. I don't 
nade the light. Candles and oakum ain't good company 
down here." 

He disappeared a second time under the black ledge, only 
to re-appear pretty soon with a call for a "big wad av 
o-akum." He had found a large opening. 

After a number of trips Danny stopped to rest. Then 
we noticed that the water was actually beginning to subside. 
Encouraged by this success Danny resumed his work with 
redoubled energy, dispensing with the life rope, which, very 
evidently, was doing him no good. 

The result of his efforts were now readily apparent. The 
water was receding rapidly. Soon it had dropped three or 
four feet, uncovering a cross brace in the caisson, upon 
which we climbed out and assisted in the work of stopping 
the holes. After nearly an hour's work our task was done. 
The rock bottom was bared, and we climbed up the shaft- 



262 With the Men Who Do Things. 

ing, congratulating Danny Roach upon the success of his 
brave venture. Danny was glad enough to get dry clothing 
on, and for once he went du*ectly to the sandhog house, 
where he wrapped himself in blankets and drank hot coffee 
to guard against the chill he had been exposed to. 

As for me, I went to the telephone and called up the 
Night Editor of the Sphere. The story I told was such a 
thriller that he had me dictate it right over the 'phone, and 
held the presses to get It into the first morning edition. 



CHAPTER XXV. 
IGNITING OIL BY COMPRESSION. 

The powerful sea-going tug Champion was well under 
way before Mr. Price finished greeting his many friends on 
board and turned to us. We had received a last-moment 
Invitation from him, by telegraph, to join the party of engi- 
neers who were going down the bay to meet the new ship. 
Christian X. Why the vessel should receive such attention 
we hadn't the least idea, but that did not deter us from 
accepting the invitation with alacrity, and here we were, 
patiently waiting for a chance to question our host. 

**Why, it's a DIesel-englned ship, the first to visit this 
country," he replied, in answer to Bill's query. "I suppose 
your Uncle Edward has told you all about Diesel engines?" 

Bill shook his head. 

"What I Didn't he tell you anything about them? Why, 
one of the principal objects of his visit abroad this year was 
to make a study of these new engines. That was why I 
asked you to join our party. It just occurred to me this 
morning at breakfast, and I sent James out with the tele- 
gram at once." 

*Tt was awfully good of you," said Bill, "and we are 
both anxious to see that steamer, but we don't know any- 
thing about her engines." 

263 



264. with the Men Who Do Things. 

"Well, I should say you didn't, or you wouldn't call her 
a steamer," answered Mr. Price. "She doesn't use steam 
at all. "A Diesel engine is something like an automobile 
engine, only it burns oil instead of gasolene. You know how 
a gasolene engine works, I suppose ? First the piston moves 
out, sucking into the cylinder a charge of mixed gasolene 
vapor and air; then the piston comes back, compressing the 
charge; then a spark ignites the gasolene, exploding it so 
that It drives the piston out again ; and, finally, as the piston 
moves in once more, "it forces out of the cylinder all the 
gases formed by the burning of the charge; after this, the 
process is repeated. That is what we call a four-cycle en- 
gine, because it takes four strokes of the piston to complete 
the cycle of operation. Only one of the four strokes is a 
working stroke." 

"But what keeps the engine going between strokes?" 
"The momentum of the fly-wheel. It is as if you had one 
pedal on your bicycle, and you made the machine go by 
giving the pedal a kick every other time around. Usually 
the engines are built with a number of cylinders, the pistons 
of which arc set to work one after the other. In a four- 
cylinder machine, there Is a kick by one or another of the 
four pistons at each stroke. The main trouble with the 
ordinary gasolene engine lies in getting just the right mix- 
ture of gasolene and air Into the charge, and in igniting it 
with a spark; but in the Diesel engine, cheap oil Is used in- 
stead of gasolene, and It is ignited without any spark or 
flame. How, do you suppose?" 




'wHYj IT hasn't any SMOKESTACKS!" — See page 266. 




ENGINE ROOM OF THE CHRISTIAN X. 




THE GALLERY IN THE OIL-ENGINE ROOM OF THE "SELANDIA.'" 




LOWER DECK OF THE SELANDIA S DIESEL ENGINE ROOM. 



Igniting Oil By Compression. 265 

We couldn't guess, of course. 

"It's like this : on the first downward stroke, pure air is 
drawn into the cylinder, then the piston rises and compresses 
that air to nearly five hundred pounds per square inch. You 
know that when you compress air it gets hot?" 

"Oh, yes," I chimed in; "don't you remember. Bill, how 
the paint was all blistered off the air-compressors at the 
aqueduct plant?" 

"Yes," continued Mr. Price, "that is right; but there the 
pressure was very small compared with this. Why, with 
five hundred pounds to the inch, the temperature amounts to 
one thousand degrees Fahrenheit; that is, the air gets as hot 
as iron when It is cherry-red. Into that 'red-hot' air a spray 
of oil Is forced by a jet of air compressed to about nine 
hundred pounds per Inch, and at once the oil bursts into a 
flash of flame, kicking the piston out with a powerful stroke. 
The next stroke clears the cylinder of gases." 

*^But why doesn't the jet of air set the oil on fire?" 

"Because It comes from a storage tank, and Is cooled 
before it is stored." 

"What I can't understand is why they don't lose a lot of 
power when they compress the air In the cylinder," put In 
Bill. 

Mr. Price laughed. "I knew you would ask that; every 
one does. The pressure in the cylinder cannot get away. 
The work the piston does in squeezing that air is not lost, 
but is all given back to it on the next stroke, and, in addition, 
there is the pressure of the exploding charge. There is some 



266 With the Men Who Do Things, 

loss in the compressed air that sprays the oil into the cylin- 
der, but the loss doesn't amount to very much." 

"What's the advantage of an oil engine? I should think 
coal would be cheaper." 

"Do you know how much power is wasted by steam-en- 
gines ? Ninety per cent I Why, if they could employ all the 
energy in the fuel, they would feed the furnaces with coal 
by the lump instead of by the shovelful. With these oil 
motors, the wasted energy is cut down to about sixty per 
cent. The Christian X has two motors, each of twelve 
hundred and fifty horse-power, and they use one third of a 
pound of oil per horse-power every hour, while a steamship 
would use more than a pound and a half of coal. They save 
one hundred and thirty dollars a day. Then there is another 
advantage: it is a tedious and dirty job to coal a ship, but 
the oil-motored ship is loaded with fuel by means of a pump, 
and the oil is stored in the double bottom, where it takes 
up no cargo space. Then, too, there is no boiler-room, 
which provides more space for the cargo, and does away 
with a lot of the crew." 

He was interrupted by a commotion forward. Some one 
had sighted the Christian X at anchor at Quarantine. 

"What makes it look so queer?" asked Bill. "Why, It 
hasn't any smoke-stacks I" 

"Now, why should It? There Is no furnace on board, 
and no smoke comes from the engines. That is a feature of 
the oil motor that would count for a great deal In a war- 
vessel that did not want to betray Its presence to the enemy.'* 



Igniting Oil By Compression, 267 

B7 the time we reached the Christian X, the health offi- 
cers Jiad examined the men on board, and we were free to 
visit the ship. No sooner had I scrambled up to the deck, 
than some one seized me by the coat-collar, and demanded, 
in a gruff voice : 

"Young man, what are you doing here?" 

Without waiting for an answer, he dropped me and 
grabbed Bill, who was right behind me, and dragged him 
up on the deck. 

We both gasped in astonishment — it was Uncle Edward! 

**W-w-where did you come from?" stammered Bill. 

"And w-w-where did you?" mimicked Uncle Edward. 
"The surprise is mutual. Dr. McGreggor and I are about 
the only passengers on board. We have been studying the 
motor engines all the way across, and they have behaved 
beautifully. But how in the world did you happen aboard?" 

While we were In the midst of our explanations. Uncle 
Edward caught sight of his partner. 

"Oh, McGreggor," he called, "see who's here. These 
are the two chaps you thought would go to the dogs If 
they were turned loose In New York. Here they are, keenly 
interested in Diesel engines, and during the last few months 
they have been through almost everything of any engineering 
Importance, I hear. You must admit that my confidence in 
these youngsters was not misplaced." 

"Wait a bit; let me cross-examine them," returned Dr. 
McGreggor. "How much of that one thousand dollars is 
left?" 



268 With the Men Who Do Things. 

"Quite a little," said Bill, pulling out his check-book, 
which showed a balance of about $480. 

"Some of it was spent at Coney Island?" 

"Oh, yes, some; I couldn't say how much. You know, 
we have had a very hot summer." 

"What else have you seen?" 

"Bridge-building, foundations, the aqueduct " 

"Hold on, now; what evidence have I of all this?" 

"Our diary. Jim Is the scribe, you know. He has an 
account of everything of any importance. He took notes as 
we went along, and then entered them in the diary at night. 
He has written somiC articles for the Evening Sphere that 
brought us in quite a lot of money." 

"Where is your note-book, Jim?" asked Dr. McGreggor, 
sternly. 

I handed him the book, apologizing for Its scrawly con- 
dition. He looked at it perfunctorily at first, then an item 
caught his attention, and he began to examine the notes In- 
tently. 

"Well?" interrupted Uncle Edward, after wc had waited 
for several minutes. 

"Most interesting," muttered Dr. McGreggor, "most in- 
teresting. Young gentlemen, I have no case, and I shall 
direct the jury to bring in a verdict in your favor." 

"Hurray!" shouted Uncle Edward, patting Bill on the 
back; "you have the right stuff in you; I knew you wouldn't 
fail me." Dr. McGreggor shook his head, and grunted 
something as Uncle Edward continued, "Bill, I am going to 



Igniting Oil By Compression. 269 

put you through a stiff course In college, and make an engi- 
neer of you." 

Bill was radiant. 

Then a most unexpected thing happened. Doctor Mc- 
Greggor spoke up. "Jim is going through college, too, and 
I am going to meet his expenses." 

Iwas overwhelmed. A college course for me! How 
I had longed for it. How impossible it seemed with 
father in his present straitened circumstances ! How it had 
hurt to think of Bill's going to college while I stayed at 
home, for I felt certain all along that his U'ncle Edward 
would look after him. I don't know that I comported my- 
self very creditably, but I stammered out some sort of thanks 
— not a thousandth part of what I felt. 

"I was planning to take care of Jim, too," said Uncle 
Edward. But Dr. McGreggor insisted on bearing the ex- 
penses himself. After he and Uncle Edward had talked it 
over at some length, it was finally conceded that Dr. Mc- 
Greggor should see me through college, provided my parents 
did not object. 

"Hello, we are under way again," exclaimed Uncle Ed- 
ward, "we had better run below, or the ship will be docked 
before you have a chance to see the engines running." 

Of what we saw down in the engine-room I have only the 
vaguest impression. The accompanying photographs will 
tell the story better than I can. My eyes could not take in 
very much, for my mind was up In the clouds somewhere. 

THE END. 



INDEX. 



A 

Adventures, 

Asleep in a Sewer 231 

Bursting Fire Hose 8 

Caught in Jaws of Dredge. 233 
Dynamite Dropped in Shaft 139 
FalHng Instead of Drop- 
ping Tools on Men 157 

Falling Out of Cage and 

on Top 155 

Fire in Caisson 49 

Fire in "Key" Shaft 193 

Fire on Bridge 103 

Hat on Fire 19 

In Falling Elevator Seated 

on Chair 115 

Involuntary Dive of Sub- 
marine 209 

Live Cable 17 

Maniac in Submarine 205 

Rats in Caisson 258 

Reeling on a Beam 26 

Refuge in Dynamite Cham- 
ber 143 

Stopping Leak With Body 91 
Submarine Trapped in Mud 211 

Tunnel Blow-Out 85 

Wire Thieves 243 

Air Cushion for Elevators .. 113 

Air in Submarines 205 

Air-Lock, Caisson 36 

Air-Locks of Tunnel 78 

Ambrose Channel 159 

Ambrose Channel, City Hall 

■ to i2Sth Street 169 

Ambrose Channel, Danger in 

Fog 170 

Ambrose Channel, Dodging 

Shells 171 

Ambrose Channel, Mud 

Dumped in Broadway 169 

Ambrose Channel, Stone Piles 173 
Anchorages of Bridge Cables 98 
"Apron" in Front of Shield 

82, 8s, 93 



Aqueduct 123 

Aqueduct, Ashokan Dam.... 125 

Aqueduct Capacity 124 

Aqueduct, Cemeteries and 

Villages Moved 125 

Aqueduct, Concreting Plant.. 150 
Aqueduct, Concreting Shaft. . 156 
Aqueduct, Concreting Tunnel 151 
Aqueduct, Siphon Under East 

River I47 

Aqueduct, Siphon Under 

Hudson River 125,127 

Aqueduct, Skyscraper and 

Shaft Compared 148 

Aqueduct, Mao of 146, 148 

Aqueduct, Private Property, 

750 Feet Underground 149 

Aqueduct, Superstitions .... 130 

Arches, Floor 16 

Ashokan Reservoir 125 

Automobile Sight Seeing 10 



Battleship, Launch of 176 

Battleship Putting in Drydock 196 

Bench Drills 132 

"Bends" 39, 52 

Blasting in Caisson 46, 256 

Blasting in Front of Shield. . 85 
Blow-Out, East River Tunnel 85 
Blow-Out Stopped With 

Man's Body 93, 95 

Boards, "Poling" and 

"Breast" 93 

Boats That Devour Mud I59 

"Breast" Boards 93 

Bridge Anchorages 98 

Bridge Cables, Stringing loi 

Bridge, Fire 103 

Bridge Towers 99 

Bridging the East River.... 98 

Building Afloat 31 

Buildings, Height Limit 32 

Buildings, Weight Limit 30 



271 



272 



Index. 



Broadway, A Hundred Feet 
Below 34 

Broadway, Five Hundred 
Feet Above 14 

C 

Cable Vault, Telephone 248 

Cable Winding Process 107 

Cables, Damaged by Fire 106 

Cables of Bridge, Stringing. loi 

Caisson, Blasting in..., 46 

Caisson, Cut-Off Wall 185 

Caisson, Concrete Working 

Chamber 40 

Caisson, "Key" 191 

Caisson, Deck Burned 

Through 257 

Caisson Disease 39, 52, 61 

Caisson, Fire in 49, 193, 257 

Caisson, First Entrance in . . 39 

Caisson, Flared Footing 189 

Caisson Flooded 257 

Caisson Gate of Drydock.... 195 
Cailsson, Physlical Examina- 
tion 37 

Caisson, Rats in 258 

Caisson, Stopping Leaks 48 

Caisson, Successive Steps in 

Sinking 45 

Caisson, Wooden Chamber of 42 
Caisson, Working Under 

Forced Draught 37 . 

Cars That Travel Skyward.. 109 
Cemeteries Moved for Aque- 
duct 125 

Centrifugal Pumps of Dredge 174 
Channel, See Ambrose Chan- 
nel. 
Christening the Battleship... 182 

Clam Shell Dredge '. 233 

Cofferdams, Drydock 193 

College Course for Jim 269 

Column With Flared Footing 189 

Columns, Compressed 31 

Compressors, Air 133 

Concrete, Crushing Pressure 30 

Concrete, Filling Caisson 47 

Concreting Forms For Tun- 
nel 152 

Concreting Plant, Aqueduct. 150 

Concreting Shaft 156 

Concreting Tunnel, "Grout". 153 
Conning-Tower of Submarine 199 
Copper Mine in New York. . . 243 



Cradle Supporting Ship on 

Ways 178 

Cradles for Cables 100 

Crane, Hvdraulic in Tunnel. 80 

Cut-off Wall for Di^dock... 184 

Cutting Edge of Caisson.... 35 
Cutting Edge of Shield 

Crumpled 92 

D 

Danny Roach Burned 50 

Danny Roach in Hospital.... 71 
Danny Roach, Swim in Cais- 
son 255, 261 

Derrick, Broken 24 

Diesel Engine, Operation of. 264 

Diesel-Engined Ship 263 

"Dinky" 79, 130 

Distributing Frames of Tele- 
phone 250 

Dive of Submarine 209 

Diver Asleep in Sewer 231 

Diver, Caught by Dredge 224 

Diver, Curious Rig of 229 

Diver, Yarns 230 

Diving Bell, Principle 35 

Diving Suit Donned by Jim. . 236 
Diving Suit Inflated Too 

Much 239 

Dr. McGreggor, Cross Ex- 
amined By 267 

Drag of Suction Dredge 173 

Dredge Bins, "Cracking" the 

Load 167 

Dredge, Bucket, Caught in 

Jaws 224 

Dredge, Centrifugal Pumps.. 174 

Dredge, Clam Shell 233 

Dredge, "Drag" 173 

Dredge, Suction 159, 172 

Dredge, Treasures recovered 

by i6s 

Drill, "Jump" 119 

Drilling "Heading" of Tun- 
nel 131 

Drilling Under Water 233 

Drydock Caisson Gate 195 

Drydock, Cofferdams 193 

Drydock, "Hoodoo" 183 

Drydock, Sewer Burst 185 

Drydock, Sheet Piling 184 

Drydock. Submarine in 197 

Drydocking a Battleship 196 

Dynamite, Caging 137 



Index, 



373 



Dynamite Chamber, Squeezing 

Water Out of Air 145 

Dynamite, Charging Holes 

With 134 

Dynamite, Door for Chamber 141 
Dynamite Energy Compared 

With Gasoline 141 

Dynamite, "Shooting" 135 

E 

Ears of Submarine 208, 210 

East River Bridge Construc- 
tion 98 

East River Siphon 147 

East River Tunnel, Visit to. 75 
Ed., Uncle, see (Uncle Ed.) 
Editor of Evening Sphere... 68 

Elevators 109 

Elevators, "Air Cushion" 113 

Elevators, Construction of 

Plunger 120 

Elevators, Falling Car 116 

Elevators, Falling Up 113 

Elevators, Injuries On iii 

Elevators, Passengers On... 11 1 

Elevators, Plunger 117 

Elevators, Sinking Plunger 

Shaft 119 

Elevators, Weight During 

Stopping 115 

Engines of Submarines 202 

Engines, Oil, of Christian X. 263 

"Eophone" 210 

Erector in Tunnel 80 

Eustachian Tubes 38 

Evening Sphere, Check From 73 
Evening Sphere, First Article 

For 69 

Evening Sphere, Reporter 

From 51 

Evening Sphere, Reporters 

For 63 

Explosion, Squeezing Water 

Out of Air 145 

Eyes of a Submarine 199, 201 

P 

Fall, Life Saving 146 

Falling Body, Velocity and 

Time 12 

Falling Body and Weight... 115 

Fire, Boat 103 

Fire, Bridge 103 



Fire, Caisson 49, 193, 257 

Fire, Fruit Steamer 224 

Fire, Hat 19 

Fire, "Key" Shaft 193 

Fire, Two Mile Run to 7 

Fire, Subway 240 

Fish Caught by Dredge 164 

Floor Arches 16 

Fog, Garbage Scows, Near 

Collision 217 

Food, Water in 220 

Forms, Collapsible for Con- 
creting , 152 

Foundations, Floating 47 

Foundations, How Sunk 35 

Foundations, Pressure on . 29 

Frost on Drills 133 

G 

Garbage Boilers 219 

Garbage, Hairpins in 222 

Garbage, Oil and Water in. . 220 

Garbage Presses 220 

Garbage, Soap From...". 214 

Garbage, Treasures in 218 

Girder Weighing 61^ Tons.. 24 
Glycerine, Launching Trigger 179 
Gold Found in Dredge Bins.. 166 

"Goose Neck" 24 

Gyroscope in Submarine Tor- 
pedo 206 

H 

Hairpins in Garbage 222 

Hammers, Pneumatic Rivet- 
ing II 

Heels, French, and Building 

Code 30 

Hospital, Danny Roach in... 71 

Hospital Lock 53 

Hudson River Siphon 125, 127 

Hydraulic Crane 80 

Hydraulic Jacks (see Jacks). 

I 

Iron, Cutting With Oxy- 

Acetylene Torch 187 

Iron Workers ll 

J 

Jacks, Hydraulic for Raising 
Wreck 226 



274 



Index. 



Jacks, Hydraulic on Shield.. 79 
Jacks, Hydraulic Under 

Buildings 47 

"Jacks," Telephone 253 

Jake Blown Into the Mud... 86 
Jerry Blown Through Bed of 

River 88 

Joke on the Boys 44 

*'Juinp" Drill HQ 

K 

Key Shaft Between Caissons. 192 

L 

Lamps, in TSlanhattan Syndi- 
cate Building 28 

Lattice in Shafting — 40 

Launch of a Battleship. .176, 182 

Launching by Sawing 179 

Launching Torpedo of Sub- 
marine 209 

launching Trigger, Hydrau- 
lic 180 

Leak, Stopping With Human 

Body 91 

Leaks, Stopping With Rats . . 258 

"Legs" of Building 31 

"Liners" at "Heading" 132 

Locks (see Air Locks). 

Locomotives, Electric 79 

Luncheon at 4 A. M 81 

Luncheon with Mr. Price 92 

M 

Manhattan Syndicate Build- 
ing II, 13, et. seq. 

Motors, Electric of Submar- 
ines 202 

N 

Motors, Oil of Christian X.. 263 

New York, A Thousand Dol- 
lars to See 3 

New York, Ashes and Gar- 
bage Disposal 214 

New York, First Evening' in. 4 

O 

Oakum Ablaze 49 

Oakum Tied to Rats' Tails.. 258 

Oil Ignited by Compression . . 263 

Oil in Garbage 220 

Oxy- Acetylene Torch 186 



P 

Periscopes 201 

Pile Foundations 47 

Piling, Sheet 184 

Plunger Elevator, see Elevator. 

Pneumatic Hammer 19 

"Poling" Boards 93 

Pontoon for Raising Wreck. 225 
Power Plant in "Skyscraper" 27 

Pressure in Caisson 38 

Pressure in Tunnel 81 

Pressure on Columns 31 

Private Property 750 Feet 
Underground 149 

Q 

Quicksand in Caisson 47 

R 

"Relief" Holes of "Heading" 132 
Reporter from Evening 

Sphere 51 

Reporters for Evening 

Sphere 63 

Revolver Found, in Dredge 

Bin 164 

River Bed, Sky-Rocketing 

Through ,. 84 

River, Spinning a Web Across 98 

Riveters, Up Among 19 

Rock Flaking 135 

Rock Struck by Shield 82, 92 

"Rubber Neck" Auto 9 

S 

Sand Hogs 35, 75, 76 

Sea, Twenty Miles Under... 197 

Sewer, Asleep in 23 1 

Sewer Broken During Dry- 
dock Construction 185 

Shaft, "Key" Between Cais- 
sons 192 

Shaft Sinking for Elevator.. 119 

Sheet Piling, Drydock 184 

Shells and Ambrose Channel 

Dredge 171 

Shield, Blasting in Front of . . 85 

Shield, Steering 80 

Shield, Striking Rock Ledge 

82, 92 

Shield, Tunnel 78 

"Shoes" for Cable Strands.. loi 



Index, 



275 



"Shot" Holes of Tunnel 

"Heading" 131 

Signals on Building Con- 
struction 25 

Siphon, East River 147 

Siphon, Hudson River. .. .125, 127 
Sky-Rocketing Through River 

Bed 84 

Skyscraper and Aqueduct 

Shaft 148 

Skyscraper, Telephone Layout 

For 249 

Skyscrapers, All About 22 

Smokestack Cylinders 13, 27 

Soap from Garbage 214 

Sphere (see Evening Sphere^. 

Sphere Building, Visit to 63 

Stiletto Found in Dredge Bin 165 

Stone Piles, Burying 174 

Street Refuse, New York... 215 

Submarine, Air in 204 

Submarine, Ballast Tanks.... 203 

Submarine, Ears of 208, 210 

Submarine Electric Motors . . 202 

Submarine, Engines 202 

Submarine, Eyes 199 

Submarine in Drydock 197 

Submarine, Launching Tor- 
pedo 209 

Submarine, Torpedoes of . . . . 206 
Submarine, 20 Miles Under 

the Sea I97 

Subway, Fire in 240 

Suction Dredge (see Dredge). 

Swim, Underground 255 

Switchboards, Telephone.... 251 

T 

Telephone Cable Vault 248 

Telephone Conduit Boston to 

Washington 243 

Telephone Conversations per 

• Year 248 

Telephone, Current Used in. 250 
Telephone Distributing 

Frames 250 

Telephone "Jacks" 253 

Telephone Layout for Sky- 
scraper 249 

Telephone "Line and Cut- 
off Relays" 251 

Telephone Switchboards 251 

Telephone Tangle Repaired. 241 
Telephone, Thief Detector. . . 244 



Telephone Wire Thieves 243 

Telephone Wires in New 

York 243 

Terra-cotta, Enameled 28 

Thief Detector 244 

Thieves, Wire 243 

Thirst, Quenching a City's.. 123 
Tide, Raising Wireck With.. 228 
Tiles, Hollow, in Floor 

Arches 17 

Torch, Oxy- Acetylene 186 

Torpedoes of a Submarine... 206 

Towers of Bridge 99 

Treasures in Garbage 218 

Tunnel Blow-out 85, 93 

Tunnel, East River, Visit to. 75 
Tunnel "Heading" and 

"Bench" 131 

Tunnel, "Invert" 151 

Tunnel Lining 80 

Tunnel Shield 78 

Tunnel, Water Pressure at 

Top and Bottom 81 

U 

Uncle Ed. in Blow-out 92 

Uncle Ed., Seized by 267 

Uncle Ed's Wager i 

V 

Velocity of Falling Body.... 12 
Velocity of Falling Body and 
Weight IIS 

W 

Wager, Uncle Ed's i 

Walls Supported on Brackets 28 

Water in Food 220 

Water- Jet Under Water 174 

Water Squeezed Out of Air. 145 

Ways, Launching 177 

Weight on Foundations 29 

Whistling in Caisson 43 

Whistling Not Allowed 130 

Wind Pressure on Buildings. 29 
Wire Carrier for Bridge 

Cable loi 

Wooden Caissons 42 

Wreck, Chains Passed Under 226 

Wreck in East River 224 

Wreck, Jim Goes Down in 

Diving Suit 236 








Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
" Treatment Date; Aug. 2003 

A^o ^^ ov^ PreservatlonTechnologie 

// ■% ^ i\^ A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATIi 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberrv Townshio. PA 16066 i 






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